


The Bodyguard

by AryRiddle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, Bodyguard, Character Death, Corruption, Engagement, F/M, Fame, Forced Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Murder, Political Campaigns, Politics, Romance, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 60
Words: 324,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryRiddle/pseuds/AryRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is a popular pop star engaged to a wealthy politician, Joffrey Baratheon, who is the most powerful candidate for President. Sandor Clegane has no choice but to be her bodyguard for one night during a concert, and things don't turn out the way they expected. Soon they'll find themselves immersed in a world of political intrigues, treason, fame, lies and murder. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do You Know What You Got Into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! It all belongs to George R. R. Martin.
> 
> I really wanted to make a modern Sansan fanfiction, and I have had this idea in my head for such a long time! So I decided to write it and post it, I hope that you guys like it!
> 
> Almost all characters are aged up, but they don't have the same age difference as in the book/show. Sansa is 25, Joffrey is 27, and Sandor is 44, I hope no one has a problem with that (at least no one is underage in this fic!)
> 
> This first chapter is a little (okay, VERY!) inspired by the movie "The Bodyguard", and as you can see, the title is also taken from that movie ^^
> 
> The cover was drawn by Pollipo. You can find her and her work in Deviantart. She's amazing!

Sandor Clegane was the best bodyguard in the city, probably in the entire country, and everybody knew it, especially him. That's why when he was ordered by his boss to do this job, he felt so angry.

He had been trained to deal with extremely dangerous situations. He could fight against the most skilled assassins and all kinds of other scum with an ease that made it look like he was born to fight. He had fought in the civil war that had ended the Dictatorship in Westeros. He had spent his entire career protecting important people: the Lannisters, no less, the richest family in the country of Westeros. He had protected even the President, Robert Baratheon, and he was completely sure that if he had been with Robert when he was killed, he wouldn't have been killed. And he’d been working protecting that Presindent's son since the boy was a little four-year-old brat. Joffrey Baratheon was a young spoiled brat that had a big mouth and no brains, but he was an important person nonetheless. He was going to be the next President, although he was only twenty-seven years old.

So when that little prick had ordered him to take care of another person that night, Sandor had been furious…

…Because Joffrey had sent him to take care of a singer.

Not that that singer in particular wasn't important. She was Joffrey's fiancée, Sansa Stark. She also came from a wealthy and very influential family. Her father had been the Vice President and the childhood best friend of Robert Baratheon. He had also died shortly after the President and no one knew who did it. They did know, however, that it had been a very messy business, with a lot of blood and gore involved. Sandor didn't know the details, and it was no hair off his arse.

Sandor arrived at the stadium were his boss's fiancée was going to sing that night, and walked in through the backstage door dressed in his black work suit and dark glasses, just like always. Nobody stopped him because they all recognized him immediately: tall, fierce-looking and with half his face burnt. He was never mistaken for someone else.

"Sandor!" a man exclaimed, approaching him. Sandor raised his eyebrows, bothered at being treated with such familiarity by a stranger. "We were waiting for you! We were so worried you were not going to come."

He looked around him to check the place out and get familiar with it. He frowned when he saw no other security there.

"Am I the only one here?" he rasped.

"Yes…well, others were going to come, as always, but… We don't know what happened; they didn't pick up their phones, and none of them showed up. We were desperate, but when Sansa called her boyfriend he told us that you would come. You were our only hope, or she would have been alone tonight" the man said, a bit nervous after seeing Sandor's expression.

"And can't she be alone? It's only a fucking concert," again he rasped, irritated. He didn't see how a buggering artist could be threatened, and he had better things to do than wasting his time watching over an annoying girl's back.

"There are **_thousands_** of hysterical fans out there that want to get to her!" the man exclaimed, alarmed. "They would crush her if they managed to get past the security lines!"

Sandor grunted and rolled his eyes. He didn't really think that it was that much of a big deal, but he shut up. His boss had decided that he was to do this job, and it was only one night, so he accepted like the good dog that he was. He would take care of the bloody girl singer and take her home safe and sound so that he was free of her.

He didn't give much thought to the fact that, even if the girl lived in the Red Keep (the President's house) with the rest of the Baratheon/Lannister family, he had never seen her. Either she was always locked in her room or she was out practicing for a concert or recording a new album or on a world tour. Sandor had never, ever, seen the girl. He had heard that she was a beauty, he sometimes heard other bodyguards talking about her, but not Joffrey. Sandor thought that his boss didn't really care too much for his fiancée, but it wasn't his business. Maybe that was better, that way maybe he would get rid of having to go and take care of her.

He checked the perimeter to make sure that everything was in order. Not that he thought that anything would be out of place, but it was pure simple routine and he was used to it as any good bodyguard was. When he saw that everything was alright, he approached the stage. The concert hadn't started yet, and the fans that had come to see their idol were getting impatient. It was way too loud. Sandor had expected to see only little girls and preteens or something, but he found that there were people of both genders and of all ages, all calling loudly for the star to finally come out. He saw girls, boys, teenagers, women and men, all shouting and waving little sticks with lights of bright colors, and some of them were holding posters with messages. A group of young men in their twenties had a huge poster with the words **_'MARRY ME SANSA!_** ' written on it. It only made Sandor frown even more.

 _All this because of a fucking singer? The world is crowded with useless idiots,_ he thought irritated.

He didn't like singers, or any kind of artists, with their beautiful faces, their fake smiles, the drama, the lies (although he didn't like politicians because of that either), their glamorous lifestyles and all that shit. They only had birds in their fucking empty heads, and no sense of the real world. And worse, they created more air-headed people with their buggering songs about romance and shit like that. It was all useless.

Suddenly the lights faded away in the stadium and colorful ones lit up the stage, and fog filled the place while music started to pound loudly through the speakers and the people that played the instruments came out. The concert had started. After a small intro, Sansa Stark appeared on stage, greeting her fans with her arms wide open, and thousands of people screamed her name.

Sandor found himself staring in awe at the young woman, unaware of the stunned face that he had. He couldn't take his eyes off her, she was beautiful. No, she was more than beautiful. She was fucking perfect.

She was younger than her fiancée, having recently turned twenty-five. She had long auburn curls that looked red under a certain light. She was tall but very fit, with long legs, a tiny waist, and big round breasts. Her face was that of an angel, all white perfection. He couldn't see the color of her eyes from where he was standing, but he imagined that they would also be beautiful, judging by everything else that he could see. Sansa was dressed for the concert in a very girly pink and puffy mini dress.

And when she sang… Fucking buggering hells, he forgot for a moment that he despised music. He had never heard a more beautiful sound in the world, even though it was pop music and he despised that genre of music more than the others. He despised all music, but he loved that voice. It was sweet, like honey.

He didn't even notice that he had been standing in the same place for two hours, watching the entire show, watching Sansa singing all her songs and dancing and smiling and going away for a few minutes every now and then, only to come back with a different outfit every time. He just couldn't take his eyes off her…

…Until she went backstage again, only this time through the side of the stage where Sandor was standing. She wasn't looking to where she was going and she almost crashed into him, but he moved out of the way. His movement caught her attention and she stopped walking, raising her head to look at him.

"Pardon me, ser…" her words died in her mouth when she saw him. But she wasn't looking him in the eyes, she was looking at the side of his face, where the flesh was burnt and horribly scarred. Sandor could finally see her eyes; they were amazingly blue and beautiful, big and bright. But they were instantly filled with horror upon seeing his face, and it angered him.

"What? You've got no pretty words for this?" he rasped mockingly, trying to control the anger in his voice.

She tried to say something, but she couldn't. She knew that he was her bodyguard that night, sent by her fiancée to protect her, so she tried to hide the horror and terror in her face.

"I'm sorry" she repeated, and she walked away from him. She picked up a bottle of water and drank from it while a guitar solo was going on outside on the stage to entertain the people, and once she was refreshed, she went back out to keep singing, and her smile was back on her face. That angered Sandor as well, the fact that she could smile to all those thousands of buggers, but she had not managed to even look at him.

_Are you surprised? Stupid dog, why would she look at you? She’ll probably be praying that she’ll never have to see your horrible face ever again._

He didn't want to watch her anymore. He walked away from where he had been standing for hours watching her, admiring her. But he could not stop listening to her. Suddenly he hated the sound of her voice and he didn't want to hear it for a single minute more.

Then he realized that while he’d been watching her, he hadn’t taken care of his duties as bodyguard. He mentally cursed at her for distracting him from his job, something that no one ever done in his life.

The concert ended not long after that. The music stopped, and Sansa came backstage, sweaty and tired, but with a big smile on her face. Her crew cheered and applauded her for her successful night.

"You were fantastic, Sansa!" a woman exclaimed.

 _Yes, she was,_ Sandor thought spitefully.

A crashing sound caught his attention. He didn't know where it came from at first, until he saw the riot of fans that had somehow broken their way in, and were now screaming like madmen and running towards Sansa, who was frozen in place.

"How did they get back here?!" the man that had spoken before with Sandor shouted. "Get them out! GET THEM OUT!"

There were hundreds of people in there and it was chaos. A sea of hands reached out to Sansa, and suddenly she was lost between all of the crazy fans.

"SANSA!" shouted someone of the crew.

Sandor didn't give it a second thought. He ran towards where all the people were, and he pushed them to the side, carelessly throwing them to the floor as he made his way to Sansa. She had lost her balance and fallen to the floor with all those people pushing and pulling from her, and she was covering her head with her little hands, trying to protect herself from being crushed. Sandor arrived at her side and picked her up in his arms. When the fans saw such a huge man with such a terrifying face picking up their idol, they were scared and finally stepped back, a moment that he used to get away from there. Those who hadn't seen Sandor tried to follow him, but he ran to the back exit and kicked it open, rushing towards his black car parked out back. He opened the door and left Sansa in the back seat and quickly put her safety belt on before closing the door, and going around the car to get inside the driver's seat. He drove away from the parking just as the riot of hysterical fans came running out of the stadium. They tried to follow the black car, but in a matter of seconds it had left them all behind, and Sansa was safely on her way home.

Sandor didn't speak, and there was silence until he heard the girl weeping in the back seat. He raised his eyes to look at her through the rearview mirror. Sansa had curled up in a fetal position on her seat and she was leaning against the door and the window, as far away from him as possible.

"Do I frighten you so much, girl?" he rasped. She met his eyes on the mirror, and she looked confused. Her hair was a mess from the little incident with the mob, and her tears had made her makeup run all over the place. But it was undeniable that even with those pitiful looks, she was still incredibly beautiful.

Slowly, she shook her head.

"N-no… No, it's not you" she said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. "Thank you… for saving me."

Sandor wanted to scoff and make some sarcastic comment, but he found himself unable to. Instead, he just slightly nodded and kept driving.


	2. Her Words Are Lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait! I had writer's block for this modern AU :S hopefully it won't happen again!  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Just like every morning, Sandor woke up very early, before everyone else, when it was still dark outside. The first thing that he did every morning was going out for a run, he needed the exercise to stay fit and muscular, and it helped him think clearly. Then he returned to the Red Keep manor, took a cold shower, put on his black work suit and had breakfast. By the time he was done, the sun had rised and everybody was awake.

Joffrey Baratheon always had breakfast with his mother and his two younger siblings, who were no more than teenagers. Sandor had always hated the mother, Cersei Lannister. She was probably the most arrogant woman in the entire country, and also the most promiscuous, thought she always tried to hide that last part. But he didn't hate her as much as he hated his boss Joffrey.

Joffrey had entered the dining room without even saying hello, and he was sitting down on the large mahogany table having breakfast and reading that morning's newspaper. As usual, he was trying to find what was being said about him. For the expression on his face, Sandor supposed that it was good news.

"I don't know why I have to wait any longer" the young man said. "I'm practically President already, I'm the one that's governing. Why waste more time and money when I have no opponents? At least, no competent ones…"

"Things have to made how they are supposed to if you want to do them right" his mother said, taking a sip from a cup of tea.

"Dog!" Joffrey said then, and Sandor looked at him. Joffrey always called him like that. "Did you do what I told you yesterday?"

"Yes" he nodded. Cersei looked curious.

"What was that, Joffrey?" she asked her son, putting the cup of tea down on the table.

"Sansa was left with no bodyguards and she had a concert last night, so I told the Hound to go" Joffrey said, without taking his eyes away from the newspaper. His face was serious now. "I trust everything was alright?"

"There was a fan riot, but nothing important" Sandor said. It had been something serious, Sansa could have been harmed, but he doubted very much that either Joffrey or Cersei would care very much about it, so why say anything else?

"Huh, interesting… And tell me, did you see any… men? With her?"

Joffrey's expression was dark, but Sandor was not able to read it, as he could not see the look in his green eyes. But he didn't like the tone of voice in which his boss had asked that question. Was that the reason why he had sent his bodyguard to take care of his fiancée? To check that she wasn't seeing anyone else behind his back? Sandor had only seen Sansa that last night, and he didn't know her, but she certainly didn't look like the kind of person that would cheat. She looked so sweet and fragile… Like a china doll.

"No" he answered then, with no trail of emotion on his voice, just like every time that he spoke when he was on the job. Joffrey seemed satisfied with the answer.

Right then, just like if she had been summoned by them when they mentioned her name, Sansa appeared in the dining room where the Baratheon-Lannister family was having breakfast. The sight of her surprised Sandor, who had never seen the young woman anywhere inside the Red Keep. Sansa was wearing a short white dress, and her long auburn hair was loose. Everyone else seemed as surprised as Sandor to see her there.

"Sansa!" Cersei exclaimed, and she smiled upon seeing her future daughter-in-law. "Such a surprise to see you here, little dove!"

"I woke up earlier today" the young woman said, smiling shyly. "I couldn't sleep."

Then she saw Sandor, who was standing on his feet a few feet away from Joffrey. She stared at him in the eyes for a second, and then she looked away without saying anything. Sandor was not sure, but he could have sworn that the girl's cheek had turned of a bright pink color just then.

"I hear that there was trouble in the concert?"

"Well, just a few fans, it was nothing… The entire night was perfect."

Sandor had to fight back his urge to snort. It was not his place to make any comment.

"Sansa" Joffrey said suddenly, and the girl looked at him "are you forgetting something?"

She looked confused for a moment, but then she smiled (Sandor thought that there was something off about that smile) and she walked to where her fiancée was and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"Good morning" she said, still smiling. And still, there was something off about that smile, but no one seemed to notice. Then she sat down next to her fiancée and the servants served her some breakfast. She was starving.

Sandor couldn't keep his eyes off her. She had thought a bit about her last night, he had found it quite hard to forget about that beautiful woman with the auburn hair and blue eyes, and now that she was there in front of him paying attention to nothing else but to her breakfast, Sandor found himself observing her from the corner of his eye. Sansa was much more calmer than she had been last night, when he brought her back to the Red Keep, but he could perfectly see that she was uneasy... Was she still shaken up about last night?

Thought curiosity was biting at him, he made no comments. He just stood there in complete silence behind his boss.

"Are you alright, Sansa?" Cersei asked then, apparently sensing too that Sansa was behaving somehow weirdly. "You seem awfully quiet this morning..."

Sansa looked alarmed by that comment. Sandor frowned while he watched the girl shake her head from side to side quickly, like a little girl who was afraid of having been caught doing something bad.

"No, I'm just... I couldn't sleep well. But I'm alright" Sansa pulled a small smile from her lips. Then something seemed to have ocurred to her. "Joffrey..." she murmured, calling her fiancée, who didn't lift his face from the newspaper to look at her. However, Sansa continued speaking. "I was wondering if I... I wanted to ask you if I could maybe go out today? There are some thing I want to buy."

Sandor frowned even more than before. Was she asking for permision to go out? What was this, a prison?!

"There is no one that can accompany you today" was all Joffrey say, still with his face hidden behind the newspaper.

Sandor almost snorted when he heard that tone of voice coming out of his boss' mouth. What was he thinking, that Sansa wanted to go out to meet with other men? Didn't Joffrey trust his word when Sandor had told him that his fiancée hadn't been seen with any men?

As if Joffrey had read his thoughts, he turned his head around to stare at the huge bodyguard, and remained silent for a couple of seconds before shrugging.

"You can take Clegane again if you want."

Cersei almost choked on her cup of tea. "What?!" she exclaimed, thought it sounded more like are you fucking nuts?! She seemed to realize that too, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "But, Joffrey, you can not be left without a bodyguard..."

"I have Meryn and Boros, they'll do for the day" Joffrey said before his mother stopped talking. Then he looked at his fiancé. "Are you ok with that, my darling?"

Sandor's eyes immediatly searched Sansa's, and so did her's, who lifted her head to look at him. A pink flush appeared on her face, which confused Sandor. What was she flushing about? She seemed to struggle when looking at him.

Is it the bloody scars? But there wasn't any sign of disgust on her face, just... simple embarrassment.

"If he's alright with it" Sansa ended up saying. Sandor almost snorted again in amusement.

So bloody polite!

Joffrey closed the newspaper and left it on the table.

"Then say no more, he's all yours for the day" Sansa blushed furiously again when Joffrey said those words. Sandor's amusement just kept increasing with each passing second.

Sansa finished her breakfast and stood up from the table.

"Well then..." she said "We're leaving in ten minutes. And we need the car" and then she walked away from the dining room.

For Sandor, this was humilliating. Now he did bot only receive orders telling him to take care of the singer, but he also had to take orders from the singer. But as much as he wanted to protest and say a thing or two that wouldn't be exactly appropiate, he managed to shut his mouth and nod. Just like the obedient dog that he was...

Sansa left the dining room to get ready, and Sandor excused himself from the presence of the Lannisters, going then to the front door. He stepped outside of the Red Keep and asked the guard there to bring one of the cars. The car was brought a minute later, a black Mercedes with blackened and bullet-proof windows. Sandor entered the car and sat on the driver's seat, putting the keys on to start the engine, and he waited there for Sansa Stark to come out of the Red Keep.

At exactly the tine that she had said he saw her walking out the front door and she opened the door to sit on the back seat, just like the night before. She buckled in, and Sandor started driving away to leave the mansion's terrains and get into the road.

"Where do you want to go?" ge asked, his voice revealing that he wasn't in a very good mood.

"To the mall" she said, and Sandor frowned. To the mall? Really? Was there any worse torture?! "As I said before, I have some things to buy."

"And couldn't you get someone else to do the shopping for you, girl?" he rasped, maybe in a harsher tone that he had intended, but really the idea of expending an entire day with a young woman shopping didn't attract him at all.

Sansa narrowed her eyes, staring at him through the rear mirror.

"No. I want to do it myself."

"Are you so desperate to get out of the Red Keep?" he couldn't stop himself, the words just poured out of his mouth. He had seen the way in which she acted that morning... It seemed that the only reason why Sansa Stark had had breakfast with her fiancée and future mother-in-law was because she had needed to, not because she wante to.

"No" the young woman said, though her voice shook when she spoke.

Sandor didn't believe it. He could smell a lie, just like dogs could smell fear.

"Do you even like Joffrey?" again, he couldn't stop himself. He disn't know what was happening to him. He was always able to keep his mouth shut whenever he had an opinion about something, but he had ni idea why this conversation with Sansa Dtark was bothering him so much. He just felt a kind of... fury, deep inside him that he couldn't describe.

Sansa looked alarmed by such a daring question coming out of one of her fiancée's employees.

"Why do you ask that?!"

That wasn't a no or a yes.

"Hey, I've known Joffrey since he was almost a baby. He's a fucking unbearable brat, so it would be perfectly understandable if you did not love him."

Sansa was opening and closing her mouth multiple times nervously, trying to answer. She was having some difficulties with it.

"I love Joffrey more than anything or anyone in the world" she managed to say, and she turned her gaze away, stopping to stare at the bodyguard through the rear mirror and instead she looked outside the window, at the streets and people passing by.

Sandor raised an eyebrow in response to her words. He wanted to make some rude reply, some sarcastic comeback, he wanted to say something to shake the girl up and get her to confess that she was lying. If there was one thing tat he hated in this world, it was liars.

The pretty singer doesn't love that fucking spoiled brat! he thought for himself. She wants what they all want. Let it be his pretty face, or his fame, or his last name or his money.

So what if that didn't make sense? It didn't make sense for a very simple reason: Sansa already has all those things on her own, she didn't need Joffrey Baratheon! That's what the good side of Sandor was telling him.

The bad side, though, was saying: women always want more, no matter what.

Because she can't be with him because of his cock, can she? the sole thought made him lought out loud without realizing it. He had heard what other women had said about his bosse's skill in bed. They said that Joffrey Baratheon was as good in bed just as much as the Lannisters were poor.

When he had laughed, Sansa Stark had her attention drawn back to him, and she raised an eyebrow just as he had before. Sandor was back to being serious now, and he didn't stare back at her through the rear mirror. They didn't talk again until they reached the mall. Sandor parked, and Sansa got out of the car without even saying a word.

"Hey!" Sandor called after her, getting out of the car too. "Wait, girl!"

"Why do I have to wait? I thought it was you who had to follow, so keep up" Sansa shot back at him, and he almost stopped dead on his tracks, stunned by the sudden fierceness in the young woman's voice.

She can have a temper, alright he made a mental note to himself about that, and then he followed the redhead inside the mall.

He got extremelly bored following the young woman from store to store, but he tried to at least entertain himself by observing what she was shopping for. Sansa had put on a pair of dark sun-glasses and a scarf covered part of her hair so that it would be harder to recognize her (thought both of them doubted that would work) and she looked at various dresses and other pieces of clothing, jewelry, shoes... She even stopped in a bookstore for a bit and eyed some books that were there. Sandor wasn't able to see the title of the books, though he was curious to know, but before he could take a look Sansa went out of the bookstore and he had to follow.

"Are you mad?" Sansa asked suddenly, surprising him. When she saw that Sandor was confused, she explained herself. " Are you mad because you have to take care of me? Again, I mean."

He grunted. "A dog only follows orders."

"But you are not a dog, you are a person" she protested.

"I prefer dogs to people."

"You haven't answered my question."

He sighed. What did she care?!

"I'm not particularly happy about this job" she admitted. "I don't have time to lose taking care of little girls" he ignored the slightly offended expression in Sansa's face "but after last night I admit that maybe you do need protection from crazy fans. Buggering idiots..."

Sansa sighed. They walked into another store, and there was a very fancy dress on a mannequin. It was of dark green silk, cut over the knees, with a tight bodice and sleeveless, and very elegant. Sandor thought it would look good on the girl, but he shook the thought out of his head. He heard Sansa whispering something under her breath as she touched the dress.

"It isn't from them from whom I need protection..."

Sandor frowned again. What did she mean by that? Who else was there that could possibly be a threat to her? Oh, yes, she wasn't only involved in the world of fame and music, but also in politics.

"As Joffrey's fiancée, you will be safe. No one wants to wake up the wrath of the Lannisters. And if you are worried that the fuckers who got your Daddy will come to get you too, don't worry. They already killed him, no one has any use for you now that you can't be used against him."

He should have not said that, he should have not said that! He wanted to bite his own tongue off, but he could not take back what he had already said. He had never seen such a sad face on anyone's face ever before. Sansa Stark's were full of tears, tears that she was fighting back, and she looked like her heart had been broken in a million pieces inside her chest. Sandor wanted to say he was sorry, but the words didn't come out of his mouth.

"Why do you have to be so hateful?" Sansa whispered before walking right past beside him and leaving him behind. Sandor was left there standing alone, and he felt like he had just been hit on the head with a giant rock. What the fuck had that been?

Because he was the girl's bodyguard and he could leave her alone, he walked to join her, standing just a few feet behind her. She was talking to one of the stores employees, asking to get the dress brought to her. While she was waiting for her orders to be carried, she turned around and looked at Sandor. The tears had disappeared from her eyes, but he could see that she was still very upset.

"As for today, you are my bodyguard, and you will do exactly as I tell you" she said, her voice shaking a bit. "And right now I'm telling you that you are not to speak a word to me at all, unless I command you otherwise. Understood?"

Slowly, Sandor nodded, looking at the girl thought his dark glasses. Later, Sansa tried the dress on when it was brought to her, she liked it, and so she bought it. They left the store and walked around for a bit more of time. In the end, Sansa was carrying lots of bags with different items, and she hadn't spoken a word to Sandor at any moment, and as commanded, he didn't speak a word to her either. He just observed her the entire time, and he could not help but wonder what a lot was that that pretty girl was hiding. For whatever it was, Sandor could feel that it wasn't anything good. It wasn't anything good at all.


	3. Headlines.

A week had passed since the day in which Sandor had to accompany Sansa Stark as her bodyguard to the mall. Since that day he had not seen her again, and he had gone back to his normal routine of being Joffrey's bodyguard. However, he had found himself not being able to stop thinking about the young woman, and the mysterious words that she had spoken to him. He could not get what she had said out of his mind.

_"It is not from them from whom I need protection."_

What the fuck had that meant. He had reacted by telling her that she did not need worry about the fuckers who killed her father; they had already gotten what they wanted. But Sansa had gone awfully pale when he had said that. For a moment she had looked sick, and terrified, and about to cry.

 _Probably a reaction to my bad manners and harsh words, nothing more,_ Sandor told himself. Yes, that was it, nothing more...

That day he was driving his boss Joffrey back to the Red Keep. He hated being also the little prick's chauffeur, but he had no other choice. It was included in his role as the man's bodyguard, and he was getting well paid for it.

He was particularly upset that day, but he was very good at hiding it. It wasn't the first time that he had driven the young politician to meet with his lover, whom he saw in secret. Sandor had never given a fuck about it, but since he met Sansa and saw what a beautiful and kind young lady she was and how lucky the bloody fucker Joffrey was to have such a woman, he felt mad that the imbecile brat was cheating on her. It was most likely that Sansa didn't give a fuck that her fiancée cheated on her, because Sandor strongly suspected that she had no feelings for her future husband, but still... Sandor found it disrespectful.

He knew who the girl was. She was very pretty, with long brunette curls, a beautiful body, a bright smile and a daring look in her pale blue eyes. She was twenty-nine years old, which made her two years older than Joffrey and four years older than Sansa, enough to make her have a lot more experience with the ways of the world than the Stark beauty. Her name was Margaery Tyrell. She was a very famous fashion designer as far as Sandor knew (he had no fucking idea about fashion but that was what he had heard), and she made a lot of money with that. Not only that, but she was the daughter of another very powerful family of politicians, which made her even more attractive in the eyes of Joffrey Baratheon.

She was also the wife of the young man's uncle, Renly Baratheon.

Sandor shook his head lightly and grunted lowly. What a fucked up family...

Of course, it was well known to him that Joffrey wasn't the only man with whom Margaery cheated on her husband. But the rumor was Renly himself knew... and he didn't give a fuck. The reason was simple: he was cheating on her as well. It was well known that Renly was as gay as a man could be, and it was a surprise when he got married to Margaery, but everybody knew that it was a marriage for power. The other rumor was that Renly had a romantic relationship with Margaery's own brother, Loras. It was quite the scandal. If that rumor turned out to be true, half of the girls in the country would be heartbroken. Loras Tyrell was a famous male super model, and had all females (and males) drooling at the sight of him. Sandor hated him with all his guts.

Sandor had the theory that Margaery's intentions were to leave her husband and marry Joffrey Baratheon as soon as he became President. That little bitch had a never-ending thirst for power, everybody knew that. But Joffrey was going to marry Sansa Stark, the daughter of the former vice-President, so Margaery would have to stick with her gay husband.

Sandor had had to wait for almost two hours outside of the apartment that Joffrey had acquired for his little encounters with his lover. Sandor was actually surprised that he was in there two hours, but he waited patiently. Now he was driving the little prick home.

"You are awfully silent, Clegane" Joffrey said then from the back seat.

"I don't have much to say" was the simple answer.

Joffrey liked to talk, specially with Sandor. After all, Sandor had been with him since he was a baby. Some people even dared to say that Sandor had practically raised him, because Robert Baratheon had always been too busy to take care of the child. Joffrey felt comfortable with Sandor, ever though the bodyguard could not stand him.

"Did you have fun having to drive my fiancée around the other day?" Joffrey asked in a mocking tone. Sandor clenched his jaw.

"I was just doing my job" he rasped.

"It must have been boring, she doesn't speak much. It used to not be impossible to shut her up, but that changed rather quickly."

"I can't imagine why" Sandor said, trying to keep his voice from sounding sarcastic. He didn't want any trouble with his boss.

"She is very different from Margaery. More... childish" when Joffrey said that, it seemed like he was saying it with disgust. Sandor wasn't sure, and he frowned.

"Which one do you like more?" he was actually curious about that. Joffrey would be an idiot if he chose Margaery over Sansa.

"Margaery" Joffrey said with a smirk on his face. Sandor almost rolled his eyes. Joffrey was really an idiot indeed, but that was no news. "She... understands me. But Sansa is much prettier. And..." Joffrey made himself more comfortable in the back seat of the black Mercedes, and the smirk on his face grew. Sandor could see him through the rear mirror, and he saw something in Joffrey's eyes that he could not quite identify, but it didn't look good. It was dark satisfaction "...I can also have my fair share of fun with her."

Sandor didn't know what Joffrey meant exactly by that, but he felt suddenly sick, and he didn't know why. He decided not to comment in that.

"What did you think of her?"

"Huh?"

"My fiancée, Sansa" Joffrey said, a little impatient. "What did you think of her? I believe you had never met her."

"I hadn't" Sandor nodded. He had always found it very strange how the girl always locked herself up in her room the entire time. He shrugged. "What do you want me to say? I thought she was a nice girl, a she has a great talent. I'm no fan of music, but I must admit that she has a great voice"

Joffrey raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes, very nice and all that shit..." he said in a bored tone. "But as a man, what did you think of her as a woman?"

Sandor was indeed very surprised by that question. Was his boss actually really asking him what he thought if he liked Sansa Stark? There was no denying that she was beautiful and bloody perfect, Sandor had recognized that since the first moment in which he laid eyes on her at the concert. But he wasn't sure if admitting it out loud to his boss would be a good idea. However, Joffrey was waiting for an answer and he hated to be kept waiting. Besides, Sandor hated liars and he never lied in his life.

"She is a very beautiful woman" he said, maintaining his voice completely neutral. Joffrey seemed satisfied with the answer.

"I thought so. She is very beautiful, but her beauty equals her stupidity."

Sandor snorted.

 _She is stupid if she is marrying you,_ he wanted to say, but he didn't.

"At least she is useful" Joffrey added. For the hundredth time, he managed to confuse Sandor. What was that supposed to mean?

Ten minutes passed in silence as Sandor drove through the streets of the capital, until Joffrey spoke again all of a sudden.

"Stop here" he said, and Sandor obeyed. He pulled over and stopped the car next to the sidewalk. "Go and get me today's newspaper."

They were selling the newspapers right in front of where Sandor had parked the car, so he didn't mind getting out of the vehicle and leaving his boss alone for a couple of seconds; he knew nothing bad would happen to him. He was right next to the car in case something was to happen in those seconds, and anyways, the window were blackened and bulletproof. He opened the door and stepped out of the car, and went to fetch the newspaper with the money Joffrey gave him. He just paid for it and grabbed it, not bothering to take a look at the front page. He couldn't care less about what was happening in the world. If anything bad ever happened and he was needed, then he just received orders and obeyed. That was all that he needed to know about bad news, the rest didn't concern him.

He went back inside the car and handed the newspaper over to Joffrey. His boss grabbed it and took a look at the front page. Sandor looked ta him through the rear mirror again, and was surprised when he had the furious red color that he young man's face had turned. Joffrey's expression was that of pure rage and fury and hatred. He opened the newspaper and started reading some article, and the more that he read, the darker the shade of red that his face turned into.

"Clegane, go back to the Red Keep..." he hissed through clenched teeth. "Now."

His hands were shaking, his whole body was trembling. Sandor was incredibly curious: what could be so bad to put his boss in such a mood in mere seconds? Joffrey had taken a lot of shit in an occasion or two from the newspapers, and he had never given much importance to it. Now, however, he looked as if his deepest desire was to gut someone alive, cut off their heads and bathe in their blood and throw their gore at the dogs.

Sandor didn't react fast enough to Joffrey's orders, which just injuriated the young politician even more. He raised his eyes from the article he was reading to meet Sandor's in the mirror.

" _ **NOW**_!" he yelled.

Sandor proceeded to obey. He wasn't a particularly nosy person, but he had to admit that he was dying of curiosity and he really wanted to now what that damn newspaper said that made Joffrey act like that. Few times had Sandor seen the young man in such a rage. Mad? of curse! But at that moment he seemed mental and psychotic!

It didn't take much longer to get to the Red Keep. Sandor parked the car at the entrance, where someone else would pick it up and drive it to the garage, and then he opened the door for Joffrey once he was outside of the vehicle. Joffrey raced past him and towards the main entrance of the mansion, and the butler opened them for him. Joffrey stormed inside, followed by Sandor.

" _ **SANSA**_!" he roared. Sandor was taken aback by that. What the fuck did Sansa have to do with any of that.

Then it hit him.

 _Probably some fucking gossiping in an article that is not true,_ he thought, remembering the amount of times in which Joffrey had asked him if he was sure that he had not seen Sansa with any men while she wasn't in the company of her fiancé outside of the Red Keep.

Cersei Lannister appeared on the lobby of the mansion.

"Joffrey, what happened? Why are you yelling?"

Joffrey completely ignored his mother.

" _ **SANSA!"**_

Two maids and the butler appeared in the lobby of the mansion, and were staring at their master with worried expressions on their faces upon seeing him in such a rage. Cersei kept trying to see what was wrong, her son kept ignoring her and he kept yelling his fiancée's name.

" _ **SANSA!"**_

Finally she appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked down at her fiancée, confused. She was wearing normal clothes, jeans and a blouse, which meant that she had stayed in the entire day locked inside her room, as she used to do very often.

"Joffrey, what's happening? Why are you yelling?" she asked, as confused as everybody else.

"Come down here, Sansa" her fiancée hissed, and she obeyed. She started to walk down the stairs slowly and with caution.

"Is something wrong...?"

Joffrey didn't respond. He just waited for his future wife to reach the same place where he was standing. As soon as Sansa was in front of him, he raised his right hand, in which he was holding nothing, and slapped her full in the face with so much force that her head turned to the side and she fell to the ground.

Cersei just looked the scene unfold in front of her without even blinking. The maids and the butler gasped, but didn't do anything. Sandor was too much in shock to actually have any rational thoughts while he saw Sansa sobbing on the carpet, with her hand gently place on her quickly-swelling and red cheek.

After a few seconds passed, he was finally able to think.

_What the fuck...?!_

He had no idea what to do. He couldn't really do anything, Joffrey was his boss, but he couldn't let him beat an innocent girl because of something that fucking newspaper said! Joffrey grabbed Sansa's arm and for a second Sandor thought that he was going to hit her again but he just shook her violently, making her whimper.

"Stop...!"

Joffrey waved the newspaper in front of her face, so that she could see the front page. Sandor couldn't read what it said because Joffrey was shaking it too hard.

" _ **Can you explain to me what does this mean?!"**_

"I don't know..." she sobbed. "Please..."

He was grabbing her arm to tightly that his knuckles were white and her skin was swollen and red, and there was a look of pain in her face and tears stinging behind her eyes. No one around interfered, but she didn't ask for help anyways. She didn't even seem to notice that there were people around her, staring at that awful scene happening in front of their eyes.

 _" **You don't know?! LIAR!**_ "

"I haven't seen them in months, you know that...!"

Finally, Cersei was the one that took a step forward, in an attempt to stop her son's mad rage. She placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from Sansa.

"Joffrey, come, you are very upset..." she told her son. At first it didn't look like Joffrey had any intention of letting go of the young woman's arm, but with his mother's insistence he finally let go of her. He was breathing heavily, like a wild beast. He pointed a menacing finger at Sansa.

"The Starks are going to be sorry for this" he said, and Sansa cringed.

"Come" Cersei said again. Then she looked at the butler and the two maids that were still staring behind them. "Well, what are you doing there?! Get back to work!"

They lowered their heads and left the lobby of the mansion, running off to do their chores. Joffrey threw the newspaper down to the floor with rage, and then he left with his mother without even looking at Sansa again.

"Take her to her room, dog" Joffrey muttered before leaving.

The bodyguard and the young woman were left alone in the lobby. The only thing that could be heard was Sansa sobbing quietly. She had out her arms around her body, trying to hug herself. Unsure of how to do, or how to react, Sandor took a few steps towards her.

He was burning inside. If there was one thing that he hated in that world apart from lies and hypocrites, it was people who abused of the weak. And mere moments ago, he had seen Joffrey Baratheon abusing of his defenseless fiancée and he hadn't done anything. No one had done anything.

When he reached Sansa's side, he stooped and extended his hand towards her, offering her his help to stand up. She didn't take it. Instead, she turned away from him almost angrily, hiding her face. Of course, it was normal if she was now angry at him. Sandor knew what it felt like to be hurt and that no one around you helped you.

However, he realized soon that he was wrong. Sansa wasn't mad at him, and he found that out when she spoke then. Her voice was a whisper.

"Don't" she said when she saw that he was offering her his hand again. Despite the fact that her voice was merely a whisper, it was very strong. Her voice wasn't shaking like her voice, and she wasn't sobbing anymore. "He doesn't like it when people help me. He will get mad at you."

It took only a moment to realize what her words meant. They meant that Joffrey was a vicious cunt. And they also meant that it wasn't the first time that he was violent with his future wife. Sansa was actually used to him hitting her.

" _It's not from them from whom I need protection_."

Now it made sense. She needed protection from Joffrey.

Sandor cursed under his breath.

"Joffrey can go and fuck himself" he rasped. He didn't wait for Sansa to give him an answer; he slipped an arm under her legs and placed the other one behind her back and he stood back up, raising her from the floor with him. He carried her up the stairs and down the hallways of the mansion until he found her bedroom. Sandor knew well the ways of the mansion, and didn't have to ask where to go. He delivered Sansa to the door of her bedroom and helped her stand on her feet.

Her face was a mess. Her tears had smudged her face with makeup, and her cheek was red and swollen. It looked painful, but the girl was managing to pull a brave expression. Sandor felt pity for her, and anger towards his boss.

"Thank you" Sansa whispered when she was standing on her feet In front of the door of her bedroom.

"Why did he do that?" he wanted to know.

Sansa shrugged.

"For the same reason as always" she said.

"Always?" Sandor asked, alarmed. "When did this start?"

Sansa opened the door of her bedroom and stepped inside. Once she was standing behind the door, ready to close it, she looked at him again. Her eyes were empty... there was no light in them. Sandor had never seen eyes so sad.

"When my father died" Sansa responded then to his question, and she closed the door in his face.

Sandor was left there alone, and his thoughts were a mess in his head. So the little shit had been hitting his fiancée for quite some time now, and the girl still stuck up with him.

 _She's staying with him because of the money and the power. It **has**  to be that,_ he thought. It was the only reasonable explanation as to why Sansa wold continue with her plans on marrying Joffrey. She clearly cold have any man that she wanted, but she had chose to stay with him and endure his behavior...

Now the question was why did he hit her? Clearly, something in the newspaper had triggered Joffrey's anger, he had been very calm until, then. In fact, he had been very calm the entire week! Sandor decided to get the answer for that question, and he walked all the way back through the hallways and down the stairs to the lobby. The newspaper was still lying forgotten on the carpet of the lobby floor, and he picked it up. It only took one single glance to get the answer to his question. It was no surprise now that Joffrey had been so angered.

 

**_Governor Robb Stark Rises in Political Campaign for Presidency._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose the TV show physical description of Margaery because it suited her better ^^


	4. Sleepless Wolf.

"Darling, you should go to sleep."

Robb Stark raised his head to look at the person who had spoken in front of him, standing by the door of his office. It was his wife, Talisa. Just as he did every time that he saw her, he smiled. Talisa returned his smile and approached him. She was very beautiful, with dark and smart eyes, long and straight black hair and olive skin. Not only was she beautiful, but she was intelligent too. She was a doctor. Robb had met her years ago, when he was younger and stupid and he had just  _borrowed_ his best friend Theon's motorbike, and he tried to ride it (without having no clue of how to do that). The outcome of that stupidity was that he fell and broke his leg, and he had to go to the hospital. Talisa was the doctor that attended and healed him. Just like that, Robb had found the love of his life when he less expected it, and he couldn't be happier.

As Talisa walked towards where he was sitting behind his desk, Robb took a moment to appreciate the nightgown that his wife was wearing. It made him wish that he didn't have so much work to do.

"I was about to go to bed" he said innocently, and Talisa raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"Liar…"

Robb rolled his eyes.

"My love, you know I have a lot of work to do… Specially now with the elections…"

"I know, I know" she said before putting her arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him softly. Then she looked at his face with a bit of disapproval. Robb knew that it was obvious that he was exhausted, it was written all over his face, and he also knew that his wife didn't like that. He was only thirty-two years old and still young and very handsome and strong, but his blue eyes were tired, with dark shadows over them. He couldn't remember the last time that he had some proper sleep, but the papers on his desk just seemed to keep piling up more and more with each day that passed.

Talisa glanced down at the papers, newspapers, reports, folders and newspapers that were scattered all over her husband's desk. A faint smile appeared in the corner of her lips.

"You caused quite a commotion presenting your candidature" she commented. She was right. The whole country had been prepared to assume Joffrey Baratheon as its new President, no one expected Robb Stark to do what he had done. But he knew it was the right thing.

"I don't trust him" he muttered.

"Why not? He is the son of your father's best friend."

"Yeah, and they are both dead" Robb said bitterly.

"You knew him when you were a kid."

"And he was a royal prick. Besides, he is the grandson of Tywin Lannister. Nothing good can come out of a Lannister."

"Judge Tyrion is a Lannister, and he's doing a very good job" Talisa pointed out. She was acquiring quite a liking to contradicting her husband quite often, but Robb had to admit that she was right again.

"Yes, he is. But that's only because his family has always treated him as if he was worthless. He's not like them."

"And you don't think that maybe Joffrey will do a good job too? Who knows, it could happen."

Robb actually laughed when he heard that.

"You have too much faith in people, my love."

She hit him in the shoulder, pretending to be offended, but she couldn't hide the grin from her face.

"Well, don't complain! It's a good thing I have faith in people. You know, I used to think that all young politicians were little spoiled and unbearably cocky boys that thought too high of themselves and were not worth wasting a second of my time. But I decided to give  _you_  a chance. I had faith in you, and look!"

Robb laughed yet again. He remembered that things hadn't been very friendly between him and Talisa the first few days that they had known each other.

"Don't compare me to Joffrey Baratheon…"

"Is he really that bad?"

"You don't know him, or you wouldn't be asking that question.  _Yes_ , he is. "

"He's going to be your brother-in-law."

Robb fell silent then at the mention of that little detail. His face darkened, and he clenched his jaw. Talisa noticed the change in her husband's mood, and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You still haven't heard of Sansa?" she asked, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing that subject up.

Robb shook his head.

"No" he answered in a quiet voice. "I haven't seen her since she moved away to King's Landing so long ago. The last time I even spoke with her was the day of our father's funeral, when she called me to tell me she couldn't come."

Talisa remembered that day. After if was revealed that Ned Stark had been murdered ad the police finished the investigation with no results, they brought the body back to his home, to the city of Winterfell, for the funeral. She had never seen Robb sadder than that day, his heart broken and his face confused by grief and pain. Catelyn Stark, her mother-in-law, had gone numb after her husband's death. What had finished breaking Talisa's heart was seeing Robb younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. They had been orphaned so young… way too young to know that kind of pain and loss. Robb had received a call from king's Landing before the funeral. It was from his younger sister Sansa, who told him that she was very sorry, but it had been impossible for her to go back home for the funeral. She had said that she had already been able to say goodbye to her father in the capital. Then she had promised her family that she would go home soon. But she hadn't fulfilled that promised. She never called again, or contacted her family in any other way. Not a single letter or email, nothing.

Sansa hadn't been the only one that hadn't returned home. Arya, the youngest Stark girl, hadn't come back either. No one knew where she was, she had disappeared after her father's murder and no one had been able to find her. They did get a call once from her. Bran had picked up the phone, and when he was questioned about it he said that Aya had told him that she was fine, that she just needed to be alone and that she was going away because there was something that she needed to do. She had told Bran to tell everyone to stop looking for her.

" _Has she said anything else?_ " their mother had asked, almost crying at the thought that her little girl had gone away.

" _She said that she loves us_ " Bran had answered her. After that Arya had hung up the phone and no one knew anything of her again.

The Stark family had told the police to stop looking for Arya because she had already called and they had lied and told them they knew where she was, but they had hired a detective to search for her. The detective was still doing his job, but there were still no results. He said that Arya was hiding, and she was very good at doing so.

They didn't worry about Sansa. Sure, they missed her, but she was with her new family and if she wanted to stay there, there was nothing they could do about it. They did know that she was alright, they saw videos of her concerts, heard of the about the releases of new hit singles and listened to her songs in the radio, read about her in the interviews of the magazines… Everything seemed to be fine and in order, almost perfect. But Robb was the one that did worry about her.

"I don't like that she's marrying Joffrey" he muttered. He stood up from his chair behind his desk and walked towards the window at the back of his big office. It was dark outside, and the moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the city of Winterfell with a faint white glow.

Talisa joined him, and he kept talking.

"I'm sure that Tywin Lannister has already found a way in which that marriage of his grandson to my sister suits him, and I don't want him using Sansa for his plans, whatever they are. I don't trust that man, he is too powerful."

"Sansa chose to marry Joffrey. Do you remember how excited she was when she was dating him? The only thing that she wanted was an engagement ring, and she got it. I remember it perfectly, she couldn't be happier about it!"

Robb did remember it, yes. It had been there, at Winterfell, in their family's ancient mansion. Joffrey had come to visit Sansa, and the Stark and Baratheon/Lannister families were enjoying dinner when suddenly Joffrey had made a toast, got down on one knee in front of everyone and he had asked Sansa to marry him. The young Stark girl had almost screamed " _yes!_ " immediately.

Robb hadn't liked that relationship from the beginning, and he liked the engagement even less. His father hadn't liked t either, but he had said that there was nothing that he could do about it. It was Sansa's life, and she was already grown up to know what she wanted to do with it.

Robb sighed. That he didn't like that engagement didn't mean that it was wrong… Maybe he just needed to stop thinking about it, stop worrying, and just let his sister be happy. He missed her very much, so maybe that was what was making him believe that she should break her engagement to Joffrey and come back home.

 _She's not a child anymore,_ he thought.  _I have to let her go._

He looked at his wife and smiled.

"Perhaps you are right' he admitted. "Perhaps I'm just paranoid."

"Do you remember when we got engaged?" Talisa asked him, putting her arms around his middle to be closer to him. "Your mother almost had a heart attack."

Robb laughed.

"Yes! She almost did… She didn't speak to me in a month after that…"

"She thought that you were making a terrible mistake marrying me" Talisa continued saying, grinning. "And here we are, years later."

"Very happy years..." Robb remarked, and he leaned down to kiss her.

When they parted from each other, Talisa kept hugging his body close to hers, not letting go. She looked at him with those dark eyes that Robb swore that could melt him.

"Why don't you come to bed with me?" Talisa asked with a soft whisper. "You can return to your politics in the morning."

Robb sighed. He turned his head to the side to look at his desk again, all covered in all those boring papers that he had to attend to. He thought about it for a second and then he sighed a second time, and looked at his wife again. He returned her smile.

"Yes" he said, cupping her face with his hands. "I suppose I can."

And he kissed her again.


	5. The Red Beauty in the Black Dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to raise Sansa's age to 25 instead of leaving her at 20. I still can't figure out a way to make Sandor younger without ruining the timeline, sorry!

There was a cocktail party at the Lannister's residence (Casterly Rock) in Lannisport, which for the Baratheon/Lannister family meant a little trip from the city of King's Landing to the other side of the country. Sandor hated to travel. For him, travelling meant too many people going from one place to the other and annoyingly moving around, unbearable chaos with luggage, and a great deal of work taking care of the security, and too many fucking hours stuck inside a jet. Sandor hated to fly, he hated sitting there for hours with nothing to do and having to deal with Joffrey's incessant babbling. The perks of it, on the other hand, was that he was served good alcohol during the flight and sometimes he could just doze off for a nap.

But he did not sleep on that flight. It had nothing to due with Joffrey's usual babbling, because that day his young boss was paying absolutely no attention to him. For once, Joffrey was silent, focused on the laptop that rested on his knees. Judging by the annoyed expression in his face, Sandor could guess that he was working on his campaign and was probably trying to find out the moves and intentions of his opponent, Robb Stark. Joffrey hadn't mentioned the campaign again during the entire week, neither had he addressed the incident with his fiancée. Everybody seemed to just have forgotten about it, but Sandor hadn't. He had seen hundreds of people being beaten and killed, but none of them had shocked him at all or stayed in his memory as if permanently recorded there. But seeing his boss striking his future wife like that, for a thing that wasn't even her fault... Sandor didn't know why it was bothering him, but it did. He was sitting in front of Joffrey in the jet, their seats facing each other. Sansa Stark was sitting between Joffrey and the window, in a diagonal position from Sandor. She had tried to read a book at first but it had soon bored her, and she was now listening to music on her iPod and was looking out of the window absent-mindedly, her gaze lost in the immensity of the horizon above the clouds.

 _She's a little bird,_ he thought when he saw her like that. _Her head full of songs and desires of flying in the sky._

Sandor spent almost the entire flight watching the young woman with his head resting on the seat behind him. There was something about her that awoke his curiosity. She stirred something else in him too, or he wouldn't have felt so angry when he saw the way she was treated the other day; what it was that provoked that anger, he didn't know. He was very confused. He decided not to think and he just looked at her. The bruise that had been present of her cheek had already disappeared with the help of make-up and healing, and the girl looked as beautiful as ever.

He had to stop looking at her when Joffrey decided to snap his laptop shut, put it aside, and turned his attention to her. Sandor could still see them from his peripheral vision, and he saw that Joffrey took Sansa's chin with his hand, which made the girl snap out of her daydreaming and look at him. She didn't protest at all when her fiancé leaned in and kissed her.

That alone bothered Sandor a great deal, and he moved in his seat uncomfortably, took the glass of wine he had been served earlier and swallowed it all down in a single gulp.

_Fucking stupid woman._

Had she already forgiven the asshole? Had she already forgotten, perhaps? Had she no dignity?

_It's most likely that she prefers to shut up about it instead of leaving the little shit and losing all that money and power._

Sandor was seriously starting to think, without a question, that Sansa Stark was like every other woman that he had met in his life. A fucking gold-digger.

He really wished that he could have another sip of wine, but he had finished it all, and he was not supposed to get drunk. he might be on a jet, but he was still on working hours.

He tried to take a small nap instead. Maybe that would help him relax before landing...

Fuck, he _really_ wanted to get off that jet.

* * *

He got his wish hours later. There was a limo waiting for them in the runway, sent by Tywin Lannister to take them to Casterly Rock. It wasn't a long ride, but it was less quiet than the flight had been, because Tommen and Myrcella were excited about visiting their grandfather's house. They were fourteen and seventeen years old respectively, and the last time that they had been at that place they had been very young. Sandor remembered because it was the last time that he had been there as well.

He had grown up in the suburbs of Lannisport, in a big house right outside of the main part of the city. When he had to leave his house, the only time that he spent in that damn city was when he entered the service of the Lannister family and had to be in Casterly Rock. He had not missed that place that was so close to the place that he had never been able to properly call home. The memories that it brought back to his mind were not pleasant at all.

Casterly Rock was a huge and very antique mansion that had been property of the Lannister family for centuries. It was a Renaissance styled mansion (it was really more of a palace than a mansion), and it was undeniable that it was impressive. It practically shouted to the winds proclaiming the wealth that that family possessed. Sandor saw Sansa Stark eyeing mansion/palace in awe, and her eyes shone like diamonds when she saw the interior of the place later.

_I guess it's tempting enough for_ _everybody..._

They were received by a butler and servants and maids that took them to their rooms. Sandor had a few hours to rest in the room that he was always assigned before he had to get ready for the party. He looked around the place, finding it almost exactly as the last time that he was there. It wasn't one of the biggest rooms in Casterly Rock, but for him it was enough, being twice the size of any normal person's bedroom in their homes.

The motive of the party was the celebration of Tywin Lannister's birthday. The man wasn't much of a party person, but every year his family insisted on throwing a party and inviting everyone of the high society of the country. Sandor hated everything. He hated the place, he hated those parties, and he hated those people.

Casterly Rock was exquisitely decorated for the party. There were elegant ice statues of beautiful shapes, magnificent chandeliers illuminating each and every room, and the garden was perfectly decorated with bushes of roses and peacocks running around. The soft and delicate music of a violin filled the mansion, and everybody was enjoying themselves while chatting, eating the delicious food, and drinking the finest wine and champagne.

Sandor was not meant to enjoy the party. He didn't even mean to do that. He had to stay the whole time nearby Joffrey to make sure that the young man was safe during the entire time. He stood behind the young Governor dressed in his bodyguard uniform, paying constant attention to everything that was happening in their surroundings and the people and their constant chattering. Many would think that that mansion was a perfectly safe place, but Sandor had heard many times of people murdered in their own homes during their own parties, so he couldn't afford letting his guard down. He wasn't there to party, he was there to keep his boss alive from any threat possible, and he disn't give a fuck if people called him paranoid and that moment.

 _Fuck it, I'm getting paid for this shit,_ he thought as his eyes observed everyone, checking if anything was out of place.

He saw some people that he recognized. There were all the Lannisters, of course, all golden-haired and green-eyed and perfect and rich and extremely arrogant and annoying. There were all kinds of high-rank politicians whose names Sandor dis not know, and there were the Tyrells. He saw Mace Tyrell, the Governor of the State of the Reach. He also saw the Governor's sons: Wyllas, a former football star that was severely injured in a game and could not okay anymore; Garlan, a successful businessman; and Loras, the spoiled supermodel. At that moment, all for Tyrells were sharing a conversation with Senator Kevan Lannister, and Sandor could not care less about what they were talking about.

He also saw Sergeant Major Jaime Lannister, the golden boy who had been the war hero. He was talking with his twin sister Cersei a few feet away from where Joffrey and Sandor were standing. Sandor took his attention away from them when he noticed someone else approaching Joffrey, and he saw that it was Tywin Lannister himself.

 _I'm surrounded by fucking Governors tonight,_ Sandor couldn't help but thinking as soon as he saw him.

Tywin Lannister was the proud Governor of the State of Westerlands, and he was a very powerful, influential and wealthy man. He was also considered by many as being dangerous. Age had not taken any of the intimidating aura that he had always had away from him, and everybody treated him with respect and admiration. He had been Vice President once, and then had a very influential position of power during the Dictatorship many years ago, but he had eventually helped in the fight against Dictator Aerys Targaryen. However, that didn't help him win the Presidential elections that were held later, which he lost to Robert Baratheon.

"Grandfather!" Joffrey exclaimed, greeting his grandfather. Tywin greeted him back, and completelly ignored Sandor; the bodyguard was fine with that, he didn't want to say hello anyways. "Wonderful party, as always!"

"Just another tedious night to remind me that years pass by," Tywin said in a serious voice. As stated before, he wasn't a very joyful person, "but time still cannot manage to defeat me."

"I can see that," Joffrey agreed. He had out on his mask of being a charming and polite young man, which he did whenever he wanted something or just get on the good side of someone.

"Did you come alone? Or are you finally going to introduce me to that future wife of yours?" Tywin asked then, suddenly sounding a bit more interested in talking with his grandson. Joffrey nodded.

"She came with me!" he said, a big smile crossing his handsome face. "Of course, you could have met her much earlier if you came to visit us more often in King's Landing."

"I have much work to do here, there is no time for trips and visits" Tywin said, keeping his face as serious and expressionless as before. If Sandor dent know better, he could have sworn that the man's face was carved in stone. Maybe that was why he seemed so intimidating to many people. The man moved his head to both his sides as if looking for someone in the crowd. "You said that your fiancée is here. May I ask where? Or have you already lost her?"

Joffrey forced a laugh. "No, she's upstairs in the guest room that was assigned to her, she should be coming down at any second now. You know how women are getting dressed and ready... Ah, there she is! Sansa!"

Sandor couldn't stop himself and, acting against what his brain was telling him to do, he turned his head in the direction in which Joffrey was shouting, which was the marble staircase covered in a red carpet. Practically without noticing what he was doing, he stared in awe at what he saw.

The young woman looked like a goddess walking down the carpeted staircase. She was wearing a black cocktail dress with a body-tight top that allowed others to admire her perfect figure. The sweetheart neckline was the perfect mix of sensual and elegant, and the skirt was long and made of black feathers. It had an opening on the side, which revealed her long leg. Along with that dress, Sansa wore simple black heals that didn't take attention away from the dress and very small diamond earrings, with a matching diamond necklace that had most likely been a gift from her fiancé.

Sansa heard Joffrey calling for her and approached them as soon as she saw him standing among the crowd. As she was walking towards them, Sandor realized that he was staring and quickly took his eyes away from her.

_Fuck!_

Sansa arrived at Joffrey's side and took the hand that he was offering. She had a radiant smile on her face, and Sandor was amazed to see how radically she could change. She hadn't spoken to her fiancé in a week after that incident when Joffrey got upset after reading the news of Governor Robb Stark running for President. Now, however, Sansa seemed like the happiest woman in the world. Joffrey led her in front of his grandfather, who was eyeing the young beauty with slight interest, though it was a different kind of interest than all the other men had when they saw Sansa.

"Sansa, I would like to introduce you to my grandfather, Governor Tywin Lannister. Grandfather, this is Sansa Stark, my fiancée."

Tywin took Sansa's hand and politely kissed it. She kept smiling radiantly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Governor," she said.

"The pleassure is mine, I have wanted to meet Joffrey's future wife for quite some time now. I must say, you are far lovelier in person. My grandson is a lucky man."

 _Indeed he is,_ Sandor thought bitterly when he heard those words coming out of Tywin Lannister's mouth.

"Well, I'm a very lucky woman to have him," Sansa replied then, and she turned her head to the side to smile at Joffrey. Sandor thought he was going to get sick right there and then. So much hypocrisy and lies! He couldn't stand it. He felt uncomfortable and had to resist the urge to snort in front of them.

He was lucky and he dent have to listen to any more of that bullshit, because at that precise moment a woman's voice raised above everyone else's, and they all turned in her direction.

"Sansa!"

A woman in her thirties, beautiful with dark hair a little under her shoulder and matching dark eyes and wearing a short and tight red dress and scandalous black stilettos approached them, smiling happily. Sansa smiled just as happily when he saw her, and both women hugged each other when the other woman reached Sansa.

" _Shae!_ "

Sandor was beginning to wonder who that woman was when a very familiar person appeared, and he frowned, not appreciating the new company. It wasn't as if he could complain, anyways...

A very short man appeared behind the woman that seemed to be good friends of Sansa Stark. Judge Tyrion Lannister. Neither his father Tywin nor his nephew Joffrey seemed to appreciate his company as well, but they didn't say anything against it. Tyrion looked at both of them with a sarcastic smile that characterized him. He was holding a cup of champagne in his right hand, and he took a quick sip from it. He didn't seem to be drunk... yet.

"Ah, my dear nephew!" he exclaimed when he set his eyes on Joffrey. "It's been a long time! Haven't you missed me?"

"Not particularly, no," Joffrey answered right away.

"Neither did I," Tyrion said, still smiling, and this time it was genuine. He looked at Sansa then. "Dear Sansa, as beautiful as ever! It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Mr. Lannister," she said.

"I've told you a thousand times, call me Tyrion. Father, you seem awfully quiet. Aren't you enjoying the party?"

Tywin had his lips tight together, an expression of annoyance quickly taking over his face as he looked down at his youngest son, whom he believed to be the disgrace of the family for no apparent reason. Sure, Tyrion had been quite the irresponsible fellow in the past, but that had changed quickly. As far as Sandor knew, the reason for that change in Tyrion Lannister's behavior was (apart from not negatively affect his job as a judge) his second wife... Who must be the woman in the red dress and scandalous stilettos. Sandor had also heard that Tywin Lannister liked his second daughter-in-law as little as he did the first one, and that was confirmed with the deadly glares the man was shooting at the woman, Shae.

"Did you already know each other?" he asked, speaking slowly, to Sansa after seeing how friendly both women had acted.

"Yes!" the redhead said with much enthusiasm. "We worked together last year."

" _Worked_ together?"

"Remember that my wife is an _actress_ , Father?" Tyrion asked then, putting especial emphasis on the word actress. He knew that it made Tywin particularly mad, because he had always wanted his sons to marry important women of the high society. Instead, his elder son had not married at all, and his youngest had married an _actress_. Only Cersei had married as he had wanted and become the First Lady. "Well, she starred in the same movie in which Sansa had the main role."

"Yes, I remember now" Tywin said, not sounding any more happier than he had before. His eyes moved back to Sansa. "I never watched the movie myself, I'm not much of a movies person. But I did hear that it was quite popular."

Sansa blushed, becoming even more lovely than she already was before. It seemed incredible that she could be shy, but there was also certain pride in her eyes. She nodded.

"Yes, it was... It was very popular internationally, I wasn't expecting that. I just wanted to give it a try, and it turned out very well," she said, shrugging afterwards. Joffrey put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Behind them, Sandor frowned again upon that sight.

"She's nominated for Best Actress and Best Original Song in the Oscar Awards," Joffrey announced. Sansa turned to even a deeper shade of red and lowered her head a little. Judge Tyrion raised his eyebrows, impressed after hearing the news.

"Well, that's wonderful, my dear!" he exclaimed, and he raised his glass of champagne. "Let's drink to that!" right after finishing speaking, he took the glass to his mouth and drank everything in a single gulp. His father shot a disapproving look at him and Tyrion saw it, but he didn't care. He never cared about anything concerning his father or his opinions about him. He was too used to them being bad. "Well, now if you don't mind, me and my wife are going to go and enjoy the party. I need another drink, and I see the Westerlings coming this way. I never liked them much, particularly the wife. She has such an horrendous character, I can see why you get along with her well, Father!"

And after that last insulting statement towards Governor Tywin, Judge Tyrion and his wife Shae left after the woman quickly said goodbye to Sansa. The faint shadow of a smile appeared in the corner of Sandor's mouth. He had to admit that sometimes, on counted occasions, he liked the Imp. He studied the faces of the two Governors and the little superstar, and he was amused to see the almost enraged expression in Tywin's usually expressionless face. But the Westerlings were, in fact, approaching him, apparently with the intention of speaking with him and congratulate him for his birthday. He sighed and looked at Joffrey and Sansa. Sandor remained, as expected, invisible behind them.

"I'll talk to you later" he said before he left them there to go and meet the Westerling family.

Sandor thought that at last he would have a little rest from listening to tedious conversation between his boss and other people, seeing that after everybody had left, Joffrey and Sansa hadn't exchanged a single word o even a look between themselves, just like they had in the plane. However, that silence was interrupted by a cheerful voice.

"There are the lovebirds!"

Sandor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Not him..._ he pleaded. It was on occasions like that that he hated to be working as a Bodyguard for Joffrey Baratheon and wished that he could send everything and everyone to hell. He opened his eyes again, and saw Governor of the State of Stormlands (yes, _another_ Governor in the family!) Renly Baratheon. He was dressed in the most extravagant way, with a suit of bright green velvet and looking as happy as a little boy in Halloween eating candy. For Sandor's relief and amusement, he saw that Joffrey was not happy about his uncle's presence either. Sansa seemed indifferent.

"Uncle Renly" Joffrey said, looking up and down Renly's attire, clearly not approving of the brightness of the color. Not that Renly wasn't well-dressed, he always was. The problem was that it was always too much for everyone else.

_Except for Loras Tyrell, clearly._

"Sansa, you look beautiful!" Renly exclaimed, admiring her beauty and her dress. He might be gay (though not officially), but he could perfectly tell when a woman was beautiful. He wasn't an idiot.

Sansa smiled sweetly, and thanked him for the compliment. Then Joffrey spoke.

"Have you come alone?" he asked to his uncle. Sandor could have choked if he had been drinking something at that moment, because he understood exactly what that question really meant: " _Have you come with your wife, who I am fucking every now and then?"_

Sandor might not have the best values in the world, and he might not be a very decent or even nice person, but he knew when something lacked respect. And that question lacked respect everywhere, not towards Renly, who didn't give a fuck who his wife fucked or didn't fuck, but towards Sansa.

Renly shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I didn't. My wife is here, somewhere..."

"Are you talking about me, darling?"

Sandor clenched his jaw when he saw the woman, Margaery, standing beside her husband. She was wearing probably the most indecent dress of the party, of a matching green color with Renly's attire, and so low cut that it left no space for imagination.

As soon as he saw her, Joffrey grinned somewhat maliciously, and Margaery returned that same mischievousness through her eyes. Renly didn't seem to notice, and if he did he didn't care. Sandor was more interested in Sansa's reaction, and he was disappointed when he saw that she seemed clueless to what was going on in there.

"Yes, darling," Renly replied then. "My nephew here had just asked me if I had come alone, and I was letting him know that I have the blessing of your company tonight. I believe you haven't met his fiancée, Sansa Stark."

"No, I haven't!" Margaery said in a singsong voice. "You are the singer, isn't that right? Oh, it's so nice to meet you! Joffrey has told me so much about you..."

 _Oh, for fuck's sake!,_ Sandor mentally shouted. He hoped to see a hint of understanding in Sansa's eyes, a bit of anger, or a hint that she was upset, but no! The fucking singer seemed as clueless and before, and Sandor thought that she smiled stupidly.

_That girl is a bloody idiot!_

"That's very nice," was what the girl said instead, and it seemed like she really meant it. "You are Margaery Tyrell, of course. I love your designs, they are wonderful."

"I think the same of your music too! And your movie, _oh_ , it brought tears to my eyes! It was so emotional, so beautiful!"

 _What brought tears to your eyes was knowing that **she** would marry the future President, not **you** ,_ Sandor wanted to say, but he kept it for himself.

"This is great. I love your performances, and you love my designs. I think we will be great friends!" Margaery exclaimed in a happy tone, making it seem like a great idea for a moment. Sansa smiled back to her.

"Yes, I'm sure of that," she nodded.

"Darling, we need to go and say hello to our gracious host!" Renly exclaimed then, looking at Tywin Lannister across the room. "We don't want to seem impolite, right? Besides, I need to delight myself by reminding him yet _again_ that he is getting _old_!"

After they left, Joffrey turned around to look at Sansa, who had been left alone with him.

"I'm afraid I need to leave you too for a moment. There are some things that I must discuss with my uncle Kevan."

She nodded, not minding her fiancé's absence. Quite the contrary, she seemed rather happy about it.

"Fine," she said. "I'll go with Shae. I see that your uncle Tyrion has left her a little bit unattended now."

"Perfect then, I'll look for you after I'm done," Joffrey agreed, and then he turned to leave. Sandor started following him, but Joffrey stopped him. "Go and enjoy the party, Clegane, you've already done enough for the night. I'll find Boros if I need him."

Sandor bowed his head a bit, making it seem like he was saying thank you for that, when in reality he would have preferred to go with his boss than being left alone to do nothing in the middle of that crowd that he disliked. Joffrey left, and he turner around. He expected to find the Stark girl still behind him, but she wasn't there anymore; she had already left to find her friend, the actress. Sandor sighed.

_I need wine._

He went to fetch some. He walked towards one of the tables where the drinks were being served and he ignored the glasses of champagne, and instead served himself a cup of one of the best wine's in the world, Arbor Gold. He made and effort not to swallow it all at once, but it was difficult. Lately, he felt altered very easily, and it wasn't about to get any better. He knew that as soon as he saw one of the people that was standing among the crowd, tall as a mountain.

Sandor knew that his brother was going to be there, he had just been hoping that he wouldn't have to see him, but of course he wasn't going to be that lucky. His brother was impossible to miss, standing at more than seven feet tall. There wasn't any man in the country as tall or strong as Gregor Clegane, and that was why he was Governor Tywin's personal bodyguard since many years ago. There wasn't also any man of whom Sandor Clegane was so scared in the entire world. Sandor gave up on his effort to drink the wine slowly; he swallowed it all down at once and left the cup back in the table. He wanted to pick another one up but he knew he shouldn't. Instead, his attention was caught on his older brother when he saw that the man, who was standing far away from him across the room, was looking at something with dark interest. At first Sandor was afraid for a moment, believing that his brother was looking at him, but then he followed the eldest Clegane's eyesight and realized that Gregor was looking at someone next to him. Sandor frowned, knowing that it wasn't good for anyone to have his brother's attention centered on them, so he turned around to see who the poor unlucky idiot was and he almost bumped into Sansa Stark.

"Sorry!" she quickly apologized. She had been holding a g,ass of champagne in her hand and some of it had spilled, but luckily it had been on the floor instead of on their clothes. Sandor almost didn't even hear her apology. He looked at her with eyes wide as plates, and then he looked back at his brother. Gregor was now looking at him, and the evil smirk in his face made Sandor's hair stand on end. He felt a cold chill inside of his chest that he felt on very rare occasions in his life.

 _It's this place_ , he thought then. _It's this fucking city. It's being back in Lannisport, the memories are worse_.

He raised his hand and touched his old burns with the tips of his fingers. He couldn't feel anything on his face, because the nerves had been burned, but he could feel the rough and unpleasant touch of his skin with his fingers, and the cold chill returned.

"Sir, are you alright?" Sansa's voice suddenly reached him, and he looked down to her again. She was looking at him a hit worried, not understanding what was wrong with him.

He didn't reply. He just turned around and left as quickly as he could. He crossed the room through the crowd until he reached the back crystal door that led to the back garden. As he was about to step outside, someone stopped him. He recognized the man, it was another bodyguard, Bronn. He was Tyrion Lannister's employee.

"You can't be here," Bronn said, daring to hold Sandor's glare and keeping his head high at the same time. Not many men were able to due that.

"I'm checking the permimeter, I need to make sure that it's safe," Sandor lied. He hated lying, but he wasn't about to tell that man that what he really wanted was to get as far away from the party as he could.

"We've already done that. Sorry mate, I can't let you out. No one's going out there without the Governor's permission.."

"And since when do you follow Governor Tywin's orders?" Sandor barked, annoyed with the man. Bronn simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Since my boss told me to!" he exclaimed. He didn't look very happy to be standing there, to tell the truth.

"Look, I'm the future President's bodyguard. If I want to check the fucking perimeter, I'll check the fucking perimeter. Or perhaps I'll tell the Governor that you are jeopardizing his grandson's security, I'm sure he'll be very happy about it. Now get out of my fucking way."

He never used the excuse of "I'm the future President's bodyguard" because he had always believed people who acted that way to be complete arrogant assholes, but he was really annoyed at that point of that night. He just wanted to go out to the garden without the stupid Lannister bodyguard stopping him from doing so. Bronn just stared at him with his eyebrows still raised for a few seconds, and in the end he stepped to the side, leaving the way free for Sandor.

"Careful with the cliff," was the last thing the man said before Sandor walked away from him.

He could smell the sea from there. There was also a beach in King's Landing, but it was filthy and he hated it, and it wasn't the real sea. But here in Lannisport, they were right next to the ocean. Casterly Rock has been built next to a very tall cliff and it was some of the most beautiful views that Sandor had even seen. He wasn't much into the aesthetic of things, but he couldn't deny that something was beautiful when he saw it. He took a deep breath, smelling the salt in the air. The light breeze hit Sandor, and he could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks hundreds of feet below. The ocean was dark, the same color as the night sky above it. Sandor got close to the edge of the cliff and observed the horizon with his hands stuffed inside his pockets. He stood there for a while, still and without doing nothing or even thinking about anything, until he heard small steps behind him. He frowned and turned around to see who was sneaking behind him. He wouldn't like to be surprised and pushed off a fucking cliff...

...He was surprised when he saw that it was Sansa Stark who had gotten out of the mansion (apparently she had managed to convince Bronn to let her pass?) and she was walking towards him. She was feeling cold, she had goose bumps on her arms and on her leg (Sandor was trying very hard not to look at the opening in the skirt of her back dress) and she was lightly rubbing her arms with her hands, but apart from that she seemed okay. She was looking at the bodyguard with a questioning expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked, surprising him even further than her presence there had already done. "You practically ran away from me back there."

Sandor didn't say anything; he just stared at her in silence, hoping that that would make her leave, but apparently it didn't. Sansa asked one more question.

"Why?"

"I have to work," Sandor said as a poor excuse. He pointed to the mansion with a quick movement of his head. "Go back inside."

"I don't want to go back inside," she protested, getting a step closer to him. "I've had enough of my future husband's family for one night. Besides, they are currently being entertained by Joffrey's lover."

That shocked Sandor, and he looked at her even more surprised than before. He could have sworn before that she had no idea about her fiancé's affair with his aunt, but apparently he had been mistaken. Either the girl had somehow found that out in the last five minutes, or she was smarted than he thought.

Sansa noticed his surprised expression, and sighed. A small mocking half smile appeared in the corner of her mouth.

"So you know?" Sadnor asked then, though it was a stupid question. The answer was obvious.

"Of course I know," Sansa scoffed. He hadn't heard her scoff since he met her; she was ever so polite and sweet and shy and naïve. "I've known for a long time. I not an idiot, you know?"

There was a long an awkward silence.

"You do think I'm an idiot, don't you?" she asked then. She didn't seem upset about that, she was just making an observation. Sandor didn't know what to make of her calmness, he didn't know what she was thinking and he couldn't manage to even guess anything.

"I just don't understand why you are marrying him," he admitted then. Sansa was still smiling, but it was in a sad way.

"Because I have to. I know what you think of me. That I'm a gold digger, that I'm just with Joffrey for his money and his power. If I wanted power, I would leave and stay with my brother Robb, he's more likely to win the elections than Joffrey, I know that. And I have enough money of my own to live like a Queen for the rest of my life."

"If it's not for the money or the power, and it's certainly not for fame either, why are you with him?" Sandor rasped, frustrated. "There must be a reason."

Sansa stared at him with curiosity.

"Why can't it just be love?" she asked innocently.

Sandor laughed then, loud and hard. It was so ridiculous that it was funny.

"Now you think that I'm the idiot!" he barked. "No woman can love a little shit that treats her the way he treated you the other day, slapping and shaking you around."

"Joffrey's got a temper," the girl said then. lowering her voice.

"Are you defending him?" he asked in disbelief. "You are definitely stupid then. I've known that boy since he was fucking four years old, I know how he is! He's a bloody bastard when he wants to be. What he did the other day, that wasn't because he has a temper; _I_ have a temper and I don't slap women around because their brother decides to do his fucking job!"

"Are you implying something?" Sansa hissed, taking yet another step closer to him.

"Yes. I'm implying that there is something that you are not telling me right now. You are with Joffrey for something that is not love."

"Well, it's none of your business!" she exclaimed; now she was upset all of a sudden, when she had remained calm during all the past minutes. "You are just a bodyguard, and I don't owe you any explanations!"

He shot daggers at her through his eyes.

"Well, the, why don't you go back to the party with the people worthy of your explanations, Miss Stark?" he rasped, suddenly angered and craving another cup of wine.

Sansa regained her composure and stared defiantly at him.

"I want to know the reason why it looked like you had seen a ghost back in the party when I crashed against you."

"I don't care about ghosts."

"You know what I mean! Tell me."

"Why should I? You didn't tell me your secret," he rasped. Regardless of that, something compelled him to tell her the truth. "My brother. Governor Tywin's bodyguard."

Sansa looked perplexed, and her eyes were wide.

"That huge man? That's your brother?" she asked, and Sandor nodded. Sansa was still puzzled. "Why did you look like you were panicking when you saw him?"

To answer the question, Sandor took a step closer to Sansa, closing the distance between them. He could see that he appeared to be a little uncomfortable then, but she didn't try to move away. Only when he leaned over her so that his face was at the same level as hers, with barely any space between them, did she seem truly uncomfortable.

It was the burns in his face. He could see how she stared at the ruined side of his face, and she saw the shadow of shock and fear and a bit of disgust and repulsion in her eyes. It only enraged Sandor even more, but it was the reaction that he was expecting.

"Tell me, girl," he hissed. He was sure that she could smell the wine in his breath. "Am I a pretty sight?"

Sansa was conflicted then, trying to find the right words to say in that occasion. Sandor didn't want her t come up with any fake polite words so that she wouldn't hurt his feelings; he wanted the truth.

" ** _Am I?!"_ ** he repeated again, more harshly and rude than before.

" _No_ ," the girl quickly admitted in a low whisper. She was perhaps hoping that he wouldn't hear her, but he did. Only then di he back away from her again, straightening his back to regain his height.

"Well, thank that to my brother," he muttered bitterly. "Now go back to the party, before your fiancé starts looking for you. I don't want any trouble because of you."

For a brief moment, he thought that Sansa perhaps wanted to say something. If she did, no words ever came out of her mouth. She just turned around and went back to the mansion, leaving Sandor there watching her walk away. That did not make him feel better.

" _Fuck_ ," he hissed after she was gone.

_What the fuck was that?_

He decided to just forget all that and not to think about it again. He was still craving that wine, but he didn't want to go back to the party. He walked away from the cliff and started walking around the immense garden of Casterly Rock, constantly cursing at himself and at the whole world while he was doing so. What the hell was wrong with him lately?

At some point he reached so tall bushes in one part of the huge Lannister garden. He was walking around there, trying to get rid of his bad mood, when he heard noises. Kissing noises. He approached the bushes, went around one of them, and caught Myrcella Baratheon kissing a boy. Judging by his attire, he was one of the young men serving at the party that night. The boy couldn't be older than nineteen, and he was good looking. It did not surprise Sandor that Myrcella Baratheon, an almost seventeen-year old teenager, had raging hormones and decided to have fun away from the party.

Sandor coughed, making the two 'kids' part from each other and jump in surprise, startled. Myrcella looked at him with horror, and the boy looked like he wanted to die right there and then.

"Sandor-!" Myrcella asked.

"I won't say anything to your brother or your parents if you go back to the party right now," Sandor said, knowing that he could get in trouble if someone else caught them.

Myrcella took her chance to escape embarrassment and ran away from the bushes and back to the party, leaving the poor boy behing. He looked at Sandor in terror, clearly expecting something bad. Sandor just pointed a finger at him.

"You are surrounded by Lannisters here, boy. I would suggest that you be more careful," he warned him. The boy nodded relieved that he had not gotten in trouble, and ran back to the mansion as well, knowing that that had been a close call.

As annoyed as Sandor had been before, now he felt kind of amused.

"Fucking kids," he muttered returning to the party as well.


	6. The Lion and the Stag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is my attempt at writing about the modern politics in modern Westeros! Hope I didn't do a terrible job...
> 
> One little detail about this fanfic is that here, Joffrey is really a Baratheon. And even if he weren't, the incest relationship that makes all Hell break loose in the book and show is not going to be addressed at all, so that's why I decided that he should be a real Baratheon. Who cares about the hair and genetics! :-P

Joffrey was the last person to arrive at the lounge where his grandfather had told him to go. He left his other two bodyguards, Meryn and Boros, to watch outside with Gregor Clegane, and he closed the doors behind him. He steadied carefully with his eyes the people that were meeting there with him and his grandfather: his uncle Jaime, his mother Cersei, his uncle Tyrion, his uncle Renly and his grand uncle Kevan. He greeted all of them with a sly smile.

"Gentlemen. Mother," he said politely, bowing his head to them before focusing his glance on Tywin Lannister. "To what do we owe this meeting? Shouldn't you be celebrating, grandfather?"

Tywin Lannister did not look amused. "I have had enough of celebrations. We have important matters to discuss. Sit."

"Why so grumpy?" Joffrey asked as he walked over to a table that had crystal cups and bottles of alcohol on it. He grabbed one of them and served himself some scotch before sitting down on one of the comfortable leather armchairs.

"Robb Stark," was his grandfather's simple answer, which summarized all of the reasons why he appeared to be upset. Tywin Lannister was shooting daggers through his green eyes. "You were about to have one of the most brilliant political careers of the century, becoming a young, strong President, and now all of that hard work is about to go to the devil."

"I think you are mistaken there," Joffrey retorted, changing his position in the armchair to be more comfortable. "I'm still going to have the most brilliant political career of the century. Robb Stark is only adding more fun to the process of achieving it."

"I don't know how you will have a brilliant political career if he becomes President."

"He won't become President."

"Actually, there's a chance that that might happen," Kevan said then, looking at both of them. "He's got the support of the entire State of the North. All the citizens will vote for him, and the North is one of the strongest states."

"So what? He has got the North, alright, but what about all the other states? Having the North doesn't give him enough electoral votes to beat me, I will have all the rest!"

"The state of the Vale always votes for candidates of the North, when any of them decide to run for President," Tyrion intervened. He wasn't a Governor or a Senator or any of that, but he did have a great knowledge of that world and he knew what he was talking about. "The Vale is another very powerful state. We are sure that the state of Westerlands will support you, every citizen is this state loves this family. And the Crownlands will vote for their Governor, that much is obvious. That divides four of the most powerful states between you two, which makes you even. But then there's the Reach."

"I can win in the Reach," Joffrey said carelessly, taking another sip of scotch.

"Can you?" Tyrion wasn't so sure. "The people from the Reach are capricious. Why? Because they have everything, and they want even more. They are a wealthy state, and keeping them happy is the most important thing."

"They want power," Joffrey said. He looked and sounded bored. He wanted to go back to the party and stop talking about politics. It was his job and he had to talk about it the entire time, he wanted a break from it. But apparently his family wasn't about to do that favor to him. "I  _have_  power. I have more power than Robb Stark, that will make them prefer  _me_  over him."

"You have power now," Tywin corrected him in a sharp tone. "But if Robb Stark wins the elections, he will have power over the entire country. He will have everything, even your power, and it won't matter that you are the Governor of the Crownlands."

"What matters now is policy," Tyrion said. "Having a good policy will make citizens prefer you over other candidates."

Joffrey scoffed. "Having plans for future policies matter nothing if you can't fulfill the promise of creating and maintaining those policies. You need money to do that. I have the money."

"Joffrey is right," Cersei agreed, speaking up for the first time, but she was cut off by her father.

"No,  _I_  have the money. And may I remind you that the President will be able to dispose of the country's money once he is elected? As I said, what we have now matters nothing if we can't make Joffrey stay at the Red Keep. And that will be difficult if the people prefer Robb Stark over you," Tywin hissed to his grandson.

Joffrey sighed and put his cup down on the table next to his armchair, finally understanding that that was going to be a very long night of work and politics. He knew his grandfather, and he knew that he wouldn't let go of the subject until he was done talking about it, and that wasn't anytime soon. Joffrey preferred not to make him angry.

"All right, so we will have to work hard to gain the State of the Reach," he said. "You say that Robb Stark will win in the North, and most probably in the Vale. Those are two major important States. Where else?"

"According to the statistics and the studies made by our counselors and yours, there is a ninety per cent of chances that he wins both the States of the Riverlands and the Iron Islands," his uncle Senator Kevan said. "And the State of Dorne... Who knows."

"So it is only sure that I will win on the States of Crownlands, Westerlands. I suppose that my chance at Stormlands is very good, I've always obtained great results in all my campaigns there," Joffrey commented. He was more worried thatn before, starting to take everything seriously and forgetting about the party. I case that I got those three, I'm at disadvantage over Robb Stark. If both of us get two major States, and I win over one other State while he wins over two... It would all come down to the Reach and Dorne. If he wins over the Reach, I'm done."

Fury and anger appeared in his expression, darkening it and making the others around him feel uncomfortable, except Tywin. Governor Tywin Lannister never got nervous in any occasion.

"You will have to work harder."

" ** _You think I'm not trying?!_** " Joffrey almost yelled, but he managed to control his temper.

"Not  _enough_."

"There is a way to stop Robb Stark from winning the Reach's electoral votes," Governor Renly Baratheon said then, speaking up and putting down his cup of Arbor Gold. He had been listening to the conversation with an amused smile on his lips, like a boy playing his favorite game. When he got everyone's attention, he spoke again. "The Reach might not vote for Joffrey, maybe, and they might give their votes to the Governor of the North... But what if there was another candidate, one who was sure that he could win those votes from that state to prevent Stark from getting the?"

Everyone looked at him in complete confusion, not knowing what he really wanted to say. Governor Renly stared back at them with a cunning smile in his face, and he sighed as he sat back comfortably on his own armchair. They were all waiting for him to explain his words, and he was taking his pleasure in their confusion. Tywin looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What are you suggesting, Renly?"

"It's easy," the Governor of Stormlands said. "It would be very easy for me to win the votes of the State of the Reach. They would love my policy! I understand the people there, and they all love me. That will remove the possibility that Robb Stark wins over that State, making everything less difficult for my nephew. I could also manage to win in the States of Dorne and the Iron Islands, it shouldn't be difficult. It's all a matter of tactics and, as you said, policy. If we study the enemy we can figure out a way to give those States something that they wants more than what Robb can give them."

"You want to present yourself as a candidate from President?" Cersei Lannister asked in disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? I would prefer to say that it is the family business!"

Tywin Lannister raised his hand and made her fall silent. He didn't seem angry like his daughter was, but he seemed to be thinking very carefully and reflecting on Renly's words. Jaime Lannister broke the silence.

"It is true that having three candidates would reduce Stark's possibilities a great deal," he admitted, looking at Renly with curiosity. "But there is another thing. If you win over the Reach, the Iron Islands and Dorne, and you would obviously also have the Stormlands... it is a great risk for Joffrey. He could still lose."

"Impossible. If everything goes as planned, and the three of us get the States that we are predicting we will get, Joffrey wins. He would have two major States, and while the State of the Reach has more electoral votes than the Westerlands, I would only have that one major State. Joffrey would have two of them, and the State of Crownlands has more electoral votes than any other State. He would have many more votes than me or Robb Stark," Renly explained calmly. "Joffrey  ** _will_**  be the President of this country."

"And what if anything goes wrong?" Joffrey asked then. He had stood up from his armchair and walked through the lounge to the wide window that faced the front garden of the mansion. He looked out of the window, his eyes fixed on the dark night sky, and then he turned to face his uncle. He stared at him with cold eyes. "What if something changes and you end up winning over the State of Riverlands, for example? What if you win over the Vale?! the citizens of that State might not vote for a candidate of the North any longer; maybe they will prefer the policies that you have to offer them!"

"That's true, things can change," Senator Kevan agreed. "You could still be chosen President instead of Joffrey, if you get the support from all those States."

"I have a solution in case that happens," Renly said, shrugging. "I'll appoint Joffrey as Vice President."

"And how would that help?!" Joffrey yelled, unable to contain himself this time. He did have a temper after all, and little patience. His sudden outburst of anger did not trouble his uncle, however, who remained as calm as he had been since the beginning of the meeting in that lounge.

"It would help because after I relinquish as President, you will be President automatically."

A heavy silence fell on them. No one dared to speak a word for the moment, and Jaime, Cersei, Kevan and Tyrion looked at Joffrey, Tywin and Renly trying to discover what they were thinking. Joffrey didn't seem as mad as before; in fact, that last statement that his uncle had just revealed appeared to have caught his interest. He looked at his grandfather too, waiting for him to say something.

"It could work," Tywin finally said.

"Yes, it could," Judge Tyrion agreed. "It would be a great plan, but how can we know that we can trust you, dear Renly? For all we know, you could end up being elected President and either not choose Joffrey as Vice President, or you could not quit being the President."

"You can trust me," Renly laughed. He picked up his cup again and took a sip from it. "If it were my desire to stop Joffrey from reaching the Presidency that he wants so much, then I could have done it by the simple means of scandal. You do know how good I am with scandal, right? I could just call the journals and newspapers and reveal to them that my dear nephew is sleeping with my wife!"

Cersei choked and Joffrey opened his eyes wide, while Jaime and Tyrion chuckled amused, but Renly was not done talking or smiling.

"And not only that, he is cheating on his fiancée! Pop Princess Sansa Stark,  _the entire world loves her_! They would be at Joffrey's throat in an instant, they would all hate him, and it would damage his political career very much. No one wants a dishonest, backstabbing President who cheats on a woman as lovely as Sansa Stark! Not to mention that your opponent is her older brother, and she's the daughter of the very much loved former and deceased Vice President."

"How  _dare_  you speak to my son in that tone?!" Cersei protested.

"Plus, no one likes the Lannisters. You'll be giving everybody a new reason to hate this family," Renly finished speaking, and drank the rest of wine that was left in his cup. When he took he cup away from his lips, he smiled sweetly and in an adorable way, which irritated everyone beyond the limits of patience.

"Many might not like the Lannisters, yes, because they envy us," Governor Tywin stated, frowning. "But many others don't appreciate your...  ** _tendencies_**... either."

Renly looked at Tywin while gaping, pretending to be insulted at the subtle mention of his sexuality.

" _How rude!_ " he exclaimed, with a note of deep amusement behind his voice. He laughed yet again. "My, my, dear tywin! I see that old age had not made you any better!"

"Renly!" Cersei exclaimed.

"Come on. All this because I mentioned the little affair that my dear wife and my nephew are enjoying. Or do you deny it, Joffrey?"

Joffrey looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He could not avoid his uncle's eyes, anyways. He shook his head, and Renly exclaimed triumphant!

" _Aha!_  See? I was right. Anyways, nephew, why don't you pay more attention to your own bride? She's lovely, she's highborn, rich, famous... She's the perfect match for you, and will gain you the favor of thousands of people! Millions, even."

"Really? How could Sansa do that? She knows nothing of politics!"

"No, she does not, but that doesn't matter," Tyrion said. "People pay a lot of attention to their First Ladies. They want women that they admire and love. Renly has Margaery to offer to them, a beautiful woman that cares for the people and is known for her work and charities. Robb Stark has also a First Lady to offer to the people, and she's beautiful, intelligent, hard-working, had a great personality and loving. He can offer the citizens the image of a happy family. He will be a great father figure to them, because he is a great father himself. Remember your future nephew, Eddard Stark the second? He is six or seven years old, and I have heard that he is the most charming of boys. People love him!"

"Are you suggesting that I should have a family with Sansa?"

"We are telling you to marry her, and soon," his grandfather said, agreeing with what his least favorite son was saying. "Your has been a  _long_  engagement. False rumors about your relationship with your wife could spread. Marry her, make people see that you two are in love and are the perfect couple, and you can use that in your advantage just like Renly and Robb Stark will do."

Cersei seemed to be about to protest, not liking people to tell her son what to do, but her uncle Kevan silenced her. After a few seconds, Tywin dismissed them all with a quick movement of his hand.

"Leave. I've had enough of talking with all of you. Enjoy the party."

One by one, they all stood up and left the lounge. Joffrey was still lingering by the window, looking at all of them go. When he was about to follow, his grandfather stopped him.

"You must be cautious," he warned him.

"I am," Joffrey said.

"Nom you are not. Watch your back from Renly. His plan is good, and it might work in case we are not able to win these elections for you. But power makes men do stupid things, and Renly can turn on his word to do all this for your own good."

"I understand, Grandfather."

"Do you also understand your need to marry the Stark girl?"

Joffrey clenched how jaw, and then he nodded.

"Good. Keep controlling her, Joffrey. Don't let her do anything behind your back. Don't let her speak to anybody that is not of your complete trust, have knowledge of everything that she does and where she goes and with who she is."

"She's too afraid of me, she always does everything that I tell her."

"That's good, keep it that way. It's also good that you are allowing the public to see her; it would raise suspicion if you kept her locked in the whole time. Once you marry her, no one will have any reason to believe that there is something wrong between you two."

"No one thinks that," Joffrey said, irritated.

"But they could. Her family could, for example. You must be careful with all the Starks. Does she speak to them? Does she see them?"

"No."

"Allow her to do so sometime, to make things look normal. But be careful with what she tells them. If she speaks, you are done, Joffrey, do you hear me?" Tywin asked his grandson, speaking in a severe, strong and demanding tone. "Do you hear me?"

"I do! Gods, will you leave me alone? You always have to remind me of careful I have to be! I don;t have to be careful, I'm Joffrey Baratheon! I have this country in the palm of my hand!"

"After what you did to Eddard Stark, you could lose the hand with which you hold this country in your palm!" Tywin shouted back at him, not tolerating his grandson to raise his voice to him. He succeeded in silencing Joffrey, but he didn't relax the severe expression of his face. "You were a fool, doing things the way that you did them!"

"He was a threat to me," Joffrey hissed.

"A threat that could have been disposed of more quietly! Instead, you decided to do things on your own, and you put yourself in risk of getting caught. As I said, you were a fool."

"Nobody knows what I did," the young Governor muttered, and for a moment there was a sadistic look in his green eyes. "So what does it matter that I did it that way?"

"Sansa Stark knows, if I remember correctly."

"Sansa Stark won't say a word. As I said, she is too afraid of me to say anything," after saying that, Joffrey walked away from the window and towards the door, which had been closed after all the others left. Just as he opened it to leave, he looked back to his grandfather. "Don't worry, Grandfather. Sansa Stark will be my lovely and beloved wife in no time, and the entire country will be mine. Happy birthday, Grandfather."

He left the lounge, closing the door behind him and leaving Tywin alone in the lounge, and he rejoined the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! I hope you liked it! I decided that I wanted to make the way of choosing the President and Vice President a mixture of the ways in which they are chosen in different countries, combining different methods. I hope it all made sense!
> 
> And yes! Little Eddard Stark II is alive in this fic! :D


	7. You Are Trouble For Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The geography in this fic is a bit confusing. I decided to put together the fictional world of Ice and Fire with the real world, so basically, I imagine that the planet is bigger and the continents of Essos and Westeros are just somewhere between the oceans or something like that.

He was tired of waiting. He had been there for hours, sitting on that goddamn uncomfortable chair, doing nothing, just waiting. Each day that passed, he hated his boss even more for making him do this stupid jobs.

They had been back at King's Landing for a few days already. Sandor had hated every minute spent at Lannisport, and he did not wish to go back there in many years, at least. He had thought that he could take a little break from work once he was in King's Landing, he knew that Joffrey did not have anything to do in those weeks, so he should be needing his bodyguard's services...

Of course, Sandor wasn't so lucky. For the third time already, Joffrey ordered him to go with the Stark girl. Sandor had not even bothered to protest, he knew it was of no use. He out his working suit on and drove to the direction that Joffrey had provided him.

Sansa had already left the Red Keep hours ago when Sandor was told to go and get her. She didn't need protection where she was, but Sandor had the feeling that Joffrey just wanted there to be someone to control his fiancée.

 _Little jealous shit,_  he thought when Joffrey told him to keep his eyes on Sansa the whole time. He still remembered when the golden prick had asked him if Sansa had seen any men.  _Does he think that she is like him?_

 _Maybe she is_ , a voice murmured in the back of his head.  _You have thought about it many times, even she knows that you think that she is a capricious gold digger._

So Sandor had drove to the Recording Studios where Sansa was currently working on her new album. It took him a long time to get there. He parked his car in a place that he wouldn't forget later, and then he walked into the studios. He showed his identification to the guard at the front desk and then he was shown to a little room where he could wait for Sansa to finish her recording session. That was where he had been waiting for the last three hours.

He checked with watch, feeling impatient. Seven fucking hells, how many hours a day did that girl spend singing non-stop?!

He caught himself wishing that he could hear her voice singing. He had just heard it once, and though he hated music, he had been enchanted by her voice. It provoked a peaceful feeling in him that he could not put into words. Unfortunately, he could not even hear a few muffled notes from her songs from where he was. He didn't even know where the girl was, she as probably too far away to be able to hear her anyways. So Sandor had no option but to wait in silence.

He saw a magazine lying abandoned on a chair across the room. He had never read a magazine in his life, but he did a double take on it when he realized who was on the cover of it. Sansa. Her bright auburn hair was impossible to miss.

Practically against his own will, he stood up from the chair and crossed to the other side of the room, and took the magazine from the chair on which it was lying. He looked at the big picture in the cover of the magazine, and allowed his grey, angry eyes to admire the girl's beauty. She was perfect, there wasn't a single flaw at view, and he knew first-hand that it was not because of the magic of photoshop. He looked at her wavy long auburn hair, her deep sky-blue eyes, her perfect smile with pearly white teeth, her blushed cheeks and high cheekbones...

Then he read the name of the article about her, and his mood was immediately fouled.

_**SANSA STARK, THE POP PRINCESS. ALL ABOUT HER NEW MOVIE AND HER UPCOMING WEDDING TO GOVERNOR JOFFREY BARATHEON.** _

He narrowed his eyes, any his grip on the magazine became so tight that the paper almost tore apart. He hadn't had any interest in reading the magazine, and now he wanted to read it even less than before. But curiosity got the better of him.

He sat down the chair, which was jut as uncomfortable as the other one and even colder, and he opened the magazine. He angrily skipped over stupid articles for women and adds of perfume, clothes and beauty products, and finally found the article about the Stark girl. There were even more pictures of her inside, and in each one she was even more beautiful than in the last one, posing in different way, smiling and giving deep looks to he camera. Sandor though that whoever he taken those pictures was fucking lucky.

There was an interview. Not sure if he wanted to do it, he proceeded to read it.

_**MC** : Sansa, your movie,  **Gunslinger** , was one of the biggest hits in Hollywood this year! Did you expect to be nominated for an Oscar at the very start of your acting career?_

_**SS** : I did not! It was a huge surprise, I was totally not expecting that. Well, the whole cast was excellent, and so was the script and the director and everyone involved in the production, so I did think that the movie was going to do well, but being nominated for the Oscars?! That was a shocker! (Laughs)_

_**MC** : And not only in one category! You are nominated for two Oscars! You are nominated for Best Actress and Best Original Song. Did you compose that song all by yourself? Is it true that you wrote it before you started working in the movie?_

_**SS** : I did, yes. And yes, it's true._

_**MC** : What inspired you? What made you write that song? It is a very beautiful and emotional song, I believe it has a deep meaning to it._

_**SS** : Well, I'm not sure what inspired me... I wrote it when I was still living with my family at our home, back in Winterfell, and... I just felt the need to stop doing all that I was doing and start singing, you know? And I did, and I created that song. It is a very special song for me, and I love to sing it._

_**MC** : And you do it so well! Your voice is so beautiful! Your ability to make people cry and then put them to dance to a completely different rhythm is incredibly._

_**SS** : Thank you!_

_**MC** : You have a brilliant music career since you were a teenager. Is there any tour coming up?_

_**SS** : No, I finished my last tour a while ago. Then I had to leave the country again, to film the movie._

_**MC** : Yes, I heard it wasn't filmed in Westeros or the USA. What shooting locations did you go to?_

_**SS** : Well ,the movie was filmed in many places. My costar Anthony had to film a lot in Essos, Arabia and Morocco, but I was filming mostly in England._

**_MC_ ** _: Which I've heard that is a lot like the North, the State of Westeros where you grew up in. (I'm from the Reach, I have never been farther away than the Riverlands.)_

_**SS** : Yes, exactly! It felt very nice to be in a place that reminded me of home. I had a great time filming the movie, and all my costars were brilliant and so funny and friendly, all the crew was fantastic and I loved the experience. And I'm so happy that people are actually liking the movie so much!_

_**MC** : I've heard that one of your costars, Shae, is actually your aunt-in-law?_

_**SS** : My future aunt in law, yes. She's amazing, and a great actress._

_**MC** : Now, Sansa, I would like to talk about your personal life for a little bit. A lot has happened to you this year, hasn't it? You lost your father._

_**SS** : Yes, I did._

_**MC** : I'm so sorry. It must have been really hard for you. The whole country loved him, he was a great man and a great Vice President._

_**SS** : Thank you. It was very hard for me, I was not expecting him to leave us so suddenly... I was away during the months previous to his death, between the tour and the movie... And when I came back, a few weeks later he just... (Voice breaks.)_

_**MC** : Oh, you poor child... I think I speak in behalf of everyone when we say that all our prayers are with you, and that you are not alone._

_**SS** : Thank you._

_**MC** : But now let's talk about happier things! You are getting married!_

_**SS** : (Smiling a bit) I am!_

_**MC** : To Governor Joffrey Baratheon, no less! How did you two meet?_

_**SS** : When we were younger, at my family's house in Winterfell. Our fathers were friends, and they worked together (his father was the President, as you know), so his family paid us a visit, and..._

_**MC** : Love happened?_

_**SS** : Love happened. (Giggles. She is a glowing young woman in love.)_

By that point in the interview, Sandor got really pissed off at the interviewer's side notes. Young woman in love?!  _Woman in love?! **In love?!**_  Sansa Stark and Joffrey Baratheon were as much in love as a lion was in love with a zebra. Nothing! Sandor had no idea what kind f game those two young stupid kids were playing, but it was definitely not love. He had personally never been in love, he didn't believe in that kind of bullshit, but he did know when two people at least  _cared_  for each other. Joffrey didn't care for Sansa, not really. He treated her awfully, despite all his fake gentle gestures with her at some moments. And if the girl cared about him... well, then she was just as stupid as she looked sometimes.

Despite his growing anger, he continued reading that piece of shit written in the magazine.

_**MC** : When is the wedding actually happening, can we know? You have been engaged for quite some time now._

_**SS** : Well, he's very busy with the political campaign and preparing the elections and everything, and I was busy on tour, and then there was the movie, and then there was... my father's death... (voice breaks again, but she recomposes herself), so it was very difficult to start planning the actual wedding, but it is happening soon._

_**MC** : How soon?_

_**SS** : Very soon._

**_MC_ ** _: And how do you get along with your future mother-in-law, Cersei Lannister?_

**_SS_ ** _: I get along with her very well! She is an amazing woman, and I've learned a lot from her!_

Sandor laughed when he read that.

 _Yeah,_ he thought.  _You've probably learned how to be a manipulative lying bitch from her, probably. That's the only thing that she has to teach._

**_MC_ ** _: Well, I hope that you are very happy in your marriage, and that you keep having a brilliant future and career and form a great family! Do you have any other projects coming up?_

**_SS_ ** _: Thank you so much, you are so sweet! No, I don't have any projects coming up. I'm focusing only on my personal life right now, and on the wedding. The Oscars is the only event that I have pending, and after that I'll just take a big long break from everything. I'll be spending a lot of time with my fiancée until then, and a lot of time with my husband after that!_

Sandor closed the magazine angrily and threw it to the side. He should not have lost his time reading it, it was all just a big piece of stinking horseshit! So much fake happiness and stupid babblings... Why didn't the Stark girl tell the truth? That her fiancé slapped her around when he got mad for any reason? He had just seen Joffrey slapping her once, but he had realized that he had done it multiple times when he spoke to Sansa, even if the young woman didn't day anything directly to him. She had just implied it, and Sandor had connected the dots. He felt furious at that, for some reason. He had been at war, he had seen abuse everywhere, he had a dangerous job that included blood and violence more often than not. And still, after all that he had seen and experienced, he could not see his boss' beautiful wife being slapped around. It just made his blood boil.

He hated that she was still with him, and could still not figure out why she didn't dump Joffrey's sorry ass. Yeah, he had figured that it was about the money, and the power... She was just an ambitious bitch like Cersei, that  _had_  to be it!

 _Maybe there's something else,_ the voice in the back of his head whispered.

Whatever it was, he just... didn't care at that moment. He wanted to get out of that place. He needed to stop thinking about all that, it was just making him angrier with every minute that passed. He stood up from that stupid, small, and uncomfortable chair and got out of the waiting room and into the hallway. He could hear voices and footsteps approaching, and he recognized once of the person as Sansa. She was laughing, and her high heels echoed in the bare walls of the studio's hallway. A man was speaking to her, and Sandor saw them appear in the corner.

"You have done a great job today,' the man that was with her was saying with a big smile on his face. Sandor thought that he recognized him from the night of the concert.

 _Petyr Baelish, her agent,_ Sandor realized then. He had done some... research... on the man, and he now knew that he was one of the most important businessmen in the whole country. And for some reason, Sandor didn't like him. Maybe it was the way in which he stared at Sansa, and the way that she happily laughed when she was talking with him.

"Thanks! This was a good day indeed!" She froze when she saw Sandor standing there in the hallway. She had clearly not been expecting him, and for a second she looked startled, maybe even alarmed. But as that second passed, she was just surprised. Baelish recognized him from the night of the concert and raised his eyebrows in a questioning way, but Sandor paid him no attention.

"Sandor!" Sansa exclaimed. "What are you doing her?!"

"Joffrey told me to come and wait for you till you were done. He wanted me to pick you up." And keep an eye on her at all moments, which was basically spying on her, but Sandor didn't mention that.

"Oh," was all that Sansa said. She turned to look at Baelish, who seemed bummed with the presence of the bodyguard there. Sandor guessed that he thought he was going to be lucky and spend a few minutes in the company of the auburn-haired beauty.

 _Well, you are not going to be so lucky today, you fucker,_ Sandor muttered in his mind, glaring at the girl's agent.

"I'll see you the next soon!" Sansa said goodbye to the man, and left with Sandor without protesting. The bodyguard had to admit that she was quite obedient. He had never seen her protest about anything that her fiancé told her to do... and he didn't know if he should find it alarming.

They walked out of the building and went to the black Mercedes in which Sandor had drove there. He opened the door for Sansa, who whispered a soft thanks before going in. Then Sandor went to the driver's seat and entered the car, started the engine, and left the parking lot. He had just started t drive when he heard the girl's stomach growling with hunger.

"Oops!" Sansa said, a bit embarrassed. Sandor actually found it amusing, and he felt his mood lightening a bit.

"You are starving, girl," he stated the obvious. He figured that she had been in that place for hours without anything to eat. He knew that what he was about to say wasn't part of his job, but he did it anyways. "I know a few places nearby, some decent restaurants."

"I'm ok," Sansa said quickly, and he looked at her through the rear mirror. He knew he was lying.

"No, you are not. You are starving," he repeated. "You look like you are about to faint, you need something to eat. I won't have you fainting around while you are under my protection, I don't want no trouble, is that clear?"

"I don't want to eat something."

_Gods, she's stubborn._

"You'll like the food. And don't worry about the fucking calories, if that is what you are thinking of. You are on your bones, you are not going to get fat for eating in a normal restaurant one day."

"I don't want to go to any restaurants with you!" she suddenly blurted out.

He hadn't expected it to feel like if someone had thrown a right hook at him, but it did. A heavy and uncomfortable silence fell over them, and he clenched his jaw, feeling the rage built up inside him again. He cursed mentally, at himself for being so stupid, and at her for being such a... a... a what, really? A famous rich girl, the fiancée of her boss, who always lived like a princess? could he curse at her for being fucking  ** _honest_**?

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry..." she said then, sounding completely embarrassed and shocked. Sandor scoffed bitterly.

"Don't bother saying that you are sorry, Miss, we both know that you are not."

"No, I didn't mean it that way, really! What I meant was that-!"

"What? What did you mean? Huh? What you really wanted to say is that you don't want to go to a restaurant with the likes of me, isn't that right? Of course, the little Pop Princes would never even think of being seen in public with someone of the likes of me! Who would want to eat next to a face like mine? I'm sure you would feel like throwing up while looking at my burns!" he almost yelled. He had seriously no fucking idea why he was loosing control like that, but he was making Sansa Stark very nervous, trying to find the right words to speak.

"No! What I mean is that... I can't be seen with a man in public!"

The surprise that that statement provoked him made his anger fade away yet once again, and he stared at her through the rear mirror one more time. She looked really troubled.

"What?"

"The paparazzi are around everywhere!" she explained. "If they saw me with you, they would start taking a lots of pictures and start all this horrible rumors. They are _dying_  to get a chance like that with me! They just want some scandal. And it that were to happen, Joffrey would be so mad!" she cried. "He would... He would... You know."

He would slap her. He would beat her because some fucking stupid halfwit paparazzi invented a stupid story about her with another man. Sandor cursed under his breath, and damned Joffrey and himself. He should have thought about that, and he felt kind of bad about having talked to her in that tone earlier. However, he was not going to apologize. He wouldn't do that.

He looked at her, frowning.

"Don't worry about that. I'm Joffrey's bodyguard... I'm your bodyguard right now, it would be normal that they see you with me," he said. Every celebrity walked around with their bodyguards! Even if the paparazzi invented a stupid ridiculous story, Joffrey wouldn't believe it!

He said that out loud, but Sansa shook her head.

"It doesn't matter, he would believe it. You know how he is. And even if he did not, he would be angry because I embarrassed him. He always does that, look at what happened with my brother and the elections."

That was true, Joffrey had the bad habit of going raging mad whenever something upset him. Sandor didn't want the same thing happening to Sansa again. He thought that Joffrey would indeed get very mad if the paparazzi invented some weird story about them Sansa. But from being upset to actually  _believe_  it...

Because of that thought, Sandor found himself laughing a low, dark, bitter laugh while he drive through the streets of King's Landing. Sansa looked at him without understanding what was making him laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"It's ridiculous," Sandor rasped. He wasn't boiling up with anger anymore, but he was upset. "Joffrey is definitely a fucking damn idiot if he could believe even for one second that there could be something... between you and me."

He felt embarassed saying those last words, and he felt like he could punch himself in the face. Damn stupid dog! He shouldn't have say that, he had sounded pathetic. It  _was_  pathetic! He started cursing at himself in his mind, until Sansa's voice brought him back to reality.

"Why?" she asked, and it was genuine curiosity, not some mock-question like Sandor had expected. "It's not impossible. Is it?"

His foot slammed on the brakes, and the black Mercedes made a harsh stop. Startled by the sudden action, Sansa let out a small cry. Several cars that had been driving behind them honked angrily, and then they passed the black Mercedes by.

Sandor was breathing heavily, Staring at the wheel in too much shock to actually give a fuck about what the people in the other cars were doing. In the back seat, Sansa was furious.

" _What is wrong with you?!_ " she yelled, mad. The harsh stop had made her move forward and the seatbelt had hurt her.

But Sandor wasn't listening to her. Once he found his own voice again, he barked:

" _What_  the  _hell_  was  _that_?!"

"That's what I'm asking you!" Sansa yelled right back at him. She made a whimpering sound when she moved her right shoulder, but she was alright a few seconds later. She sat back on the seat again, still glaring at Sandor.

"What you just said," he rasped. "What the fuck was that?"

"It was just a question!" the woman exclaimed, apparently even more upset than before. "You said it was ridiculous, I asked why?! Like, would it be so impossible for you and me to have... something, if we were not who we are, maybe?"

"Are you implying something?" he asked, his voice sounding ice-cold. He had no idea where that was going.

" _No, oh my God!_  I'm just asking a question, can't I do that?!"

"Well, your answer is yes. It would be impossible."

"Why? If you were not Joffrey's bodyguard, and I wasn't his fiancée, why would it be impossible?"

"Have you taken a good look at me?" he rasped, feelig infuriated again. He turned his head around and made sure that Sansa could see the scarred side of his face very well. "Look at my face. Would the Pop Princess like to be associated with somethig as monstruous as this?!"

His voice sounded deadly, threatening. He was meaning to scare her, make her cry, even. He remebered the first time that Sanda set eyes on him, and that horrified look in her eyes and her face. He wanted to see that again, probably to reach the bottom of his missery.

He failed. Sansa just looked at his face, all of it, and she shrugged after he made her that question.

"Joffrey has very good looks, and he's an asshole," he muttered, so lowly that it was barely audible. But Sandor dis hear her, and his face relaxed a little bit, losing much of it's frightening expression. Sansa looked at him in the eyes. " _He_  is the monster."

There wasn't a single time since the night that he had met her that he had seen the truth shining so brightly in her tear-filled eyes. It was in that moment when he realized that that young woman was in pain, real pain. She was breaking inside, like a delicate china doll, and at the same time she was building brick walls on her facade to hide the truth from the world. At that moment, there was a small opening in those brick walls and Sandor was allowed a glimpse of what was inside.

 _What has happened to her?_  he asked himself.  _What are they doing to this little bird?_

He realized that there were probably a lot of things going on inthe Red Keep that he did not know about, things he wasn't aware of. It wasn't just the slaps, it was much more. But he couldn't figure it out.

He sighed and turned his was around again, breaking eye contact with the young beauty. He started driving again, and none of them said anything. Sansa was seating silently, looking outside the window. Sandor could see her through the rear mirror, and he saw that the pain had left her eyes, and melancholy had settled in her features. She didn't move an inch of her body until Sandor stopped the car in the drivethrough of Mcdonalds. Sandor saw her questioning look, but neither said anything. He stopped in front of the first window and placed an order. Cheeseburger, large fries and a large coke. Then he drove to the second window and waited until they gave him his order.

He turned around and gave the paper bag with the cheeseburger, fries and coke to Sansa, and she stared hesitantly at him.

"It's not a restaurant," he said. "Paparazzis can't say shit about it."

And for the first time, Sansa trully smiled. She took the paper bag.

"Thank you, Sandor."

"You are welcome, little bird."


	8. "I Promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long! I'm so sorry guys! My apartment flooded, so I had a lot of things to do that did not leave much time to write :S Anyways, here's the new update!

The room was filled by the voices that came from the huge flat TV having on the wall. Everyone in the room was silent, sitting comfortably on the leather couches and armchairs with their eyes glued on the screen, and a bowl of popcorn on their laps. Robb Stark had taken the afternoon off that day, he needed to relax and spend time with his family. He had promised his son that he would watch a movie with him, and he was going to keep that promise. However, little Ned was in the bathroom, making them all wait for him in the living room, and Robb had taken over the remote control. He had ignored his wife's and mother's protests as he put on a channel with a political debate going on. Well, it wasn't exactly a debate, it was just Governor Renly Baratheon going on and on and on talking and cracking jokes from time to time... And he was always met with laugher and applause.

It was actually being interesting, and so Catelyn Stark and Talisa stopped complaying and were watching the TV paying as much attention as Robb was.

"I can't believe he is actually going on with this absurd idea," Catelyn said, meaning the campaign. "I've known him since he was a boy! He never showed any ambition for power, only a preocupying interest for fashion! And now he wants to be President?!"

"I'd rather have him as an opponent than his nephew," Robb stated. He had met the man multiple times in his life, they weren't that far apart in age. Robb didn't dislike Renly, he actually thought that the younger Baratheon brother was good company when someone wanted a few laughs.

"Well, now  _both_  of them are your oponents," Catelyn protested, not happy about it. Robb knew why she was unhappy; Governor Renly was a much stronger opponent than Joffrey, and would put up a bigger fight than his nephew with the electoral votes. People loved him everywhere he went.

"He has a good foreign policy," Talisa commented then, and Robb had to admit she was right. He gritted his teeth.

"That's not good... I mean, it's good for Westeros, but bad for me."

"Aren't you running for President for the good of Westeros? You didn't want Joffrey as President, but maybe Renly is a better option?"

"No, he might be a good man, but he is too close to Tywin Lannister... He could be easily controlled. And who knows what Vice President he will choose!"

"Obviously, he won't choose one as awesome as  _me_ ," Theon Greyjoy said, struting into Winterfell's living room. Robb couldn't help but laugh softly when he saw his lifelong best friend displaying his cockiness in front of them as he crossed the room towards with own favorite armchair. Many times he thought that Theon should really have been a stage actor instead of being involved in politics, but it was the family business... And now, Robb had chosen him to be his Vice President, if he ever won the presidential elections.

Theon sat on his armchair and grabbed the bowl of popcorn that had been waiting for him on the floor at his side. He smile widely and looked around.

"Where's the little lord?" he asked, using Eddard's nickname.

"He's coming," Catelyn said. She did not like Theon very much, she barely tolerated him, and she frowned when he saw him there. "I thought you were going to spend the weekend on the Iron Islands?" she asked, trying to sound matter-of-factly.

"I was, but... Meh, I'm not very homesick right now. I spent two entire weeks there at the beginning of the month and that was enough. I figure that I could spend some family quality time here with the Starks."

Catelyn did not seem pleased, but Robb was glad to have his best friend there. He did not like it when there were few people at Winterfell. Usually, his younger brothers Bran and Rickon were there, as they still lived there (Bran was 20 years old and on a wheelchair because of a climbing accident at Mount Everest, and Rickon was 17) but they were spending the weekend with their half-brother Jon in Europe.

Theon fell silent then and looked at the image of Renly Baratheon on the screen with disgust. " ** _Ugh_**. I thought we were watching a movie?"

"Yes, as soon as Ned comes. He'll choose the movie."

"Who wants this...  _fancy boy_  as President, anyways?" Theon asked with annoyance, and put a handful of popcorn inside his mouth, making his cheeks round and puffy. His image was very comical at that moment.

"He is winning in the Reach," Robb said with bitterness. Losing the Reach meant that it was going to be more difficult to get more electoral votes than his two adversaries. Theon almost choked when he heard the news.

" _Oh, fuck me!_  Now  _that's_  a problem!"

Catelyn Stark opened her eyes wide, scandalized by Theon's vulgarity.

" ** _THEON!_**   _Language!_ " she exclaimed, but was silenced by a little sweet voice coming from the door.

"There is a problem?" asked Eddard Stark the second as he entered the living room, and everyone looked at him. He was the cutest little boy that there ever was. He had wavy very dark auburn hair that looked brown in the dark, but flaming red in the sun. His skin tone was a bit tan, a mix from his father's pale skin and his mother's olive skin. His eyes were very dark, almost black, inherited from his mother. He also got from her a few freckles on his nose, but his smile was without a doubt his father's, and so was his stubbornness.

"Hey kid!"

When he saw his uncle Theon sitting there, he pulled the biggest smile ever and ran to him, "Uncle Theon! You are still here!"

Theon laughed, left the bowl of popcorn in the floor to prevent it from being knocked over, and picked up the small boy and sat him on his lap. Eddard laughed.

"Of course I am here, little lord! Did you miss me already, eh?"

"Everyone else had already left for the weekend..." the kid murmured, sad because his two younger uncles were not there with him. He was not used to their absence, and he got along with them really well. He also missed their pets, which they had taken with them to Europe, but at least he still had his father's own pet, Greywind, to play with.

"But not me! I didn't leave!" Theon exclaimed, cheering him up.

"Can I have some popcorn?" he asked, almost drooling because of the smell of it.

"Yes, there, your mother has it."

Theon left Eddard back on his feet on the floor and the young kid ran towards his mother, who pulled him into a tight motherly hug. She always wore a big proud smile whenever she saw her son. He was her most precious treasure, after all. Eddard hugged his mother back, just as happy as he always was, and then Talisa gave the bowl of popcorn to him before the boy ran to his father.

"Dad!"

"Come here Ned," Robb said with a gigantic smile on his face, sitting his young son on his lap just like Theon had done before. He was never as happy as he was when he was in the company of his wife and son together. They were his entire life, beyond politics, beyond everything else. Nothing mattered if they weren't there with him. He still remembered the day that Talisa told him he was going to be a father, and the day that he held his little boy in his arms and saw him for the first time. At that moment Robb understood that there were far more important things in life than power and money. With Talisa and Eddard, he had everything he could ever want in life.

It saddened him, though, that he had to spend so much time with a political career to make sure thing did not go to hell in the country. He knew that it was his duty to watch out for the country just as his father had done during so many years, and he could not just let Tywin Lannister control everything through his grandson.

"Look, that's uncle Renly!" Ned exclaimed pointing to the TV with his finger, and they all looked back at the screen again.

There was Renly, still giving his speech, being all charming and sweet to make people love him and swoon with each and everyone of his words. Eddard had gotten used to calling Renly "uncle" because he was the uncle of his uncle-to-be Joffrey, and no one had really stopped him from doing so. When he called Renly "uncle" in his presence, the Governor of Storm's End found it quite endearing.

"What is he doing on TV? I though that the one that appeared on TV was you?" Eddard asked his father, tilting his head with curiosity. Robb sighed.

"Well, yes, but now he also is going to go on TV with me and your uncle Joffrey," he told his son. "Because we are going to work together, you know? And then the people is going to decide who is best and one of us is going to be the boss."

"Cool! It's going to be you, Dad, you are the best."

Rob smiled when he heard that. He knew that all sons usually believed that their parents were the best of them all in everything, but still, hearing those words from Eddard was really encouraging. He hugged his son.

"Thanks, Ned."

Catelyn was looking at them with a sweet smile in her face. She had to admit that, even though she had not approved of his son's marriage with Talisa, she had given her son a wonderful family, and Catelyn was so proud of them all. She wondered when had her little boy grown so much and so quickly. One day, he has just a little boy and the next, he was married, had a kid of his own and was fighting to become the President. Catelyn found it all overwhelming, but she loved these little moments with her family that made her feel so much better ever since her husband passed away...

"Are we going to watch the movie, or what?" Theon interrupted, not being really patient with all that cheessy family stuff.

"Yeah, sure. What do you want to watch, Ned?"

Eddard thought about it for a few seconds, and then...

"The Dark Knight!" he said then.

Robb was very surprised when he heard that. Talisa choked, and looked at her son and husband in a disapproving way, clearly finding that movie not appropriate for boys of Ned's age. Catelyn remained impassive, having no idea of what movie that was. However, theon raised his arms in victory.

"Yes! There's someone with a good taste in movies in this family!"

Eddard chuckled, but everyone else ignored Theon.

"Are you sure you want that movie? Because... I don't know, maybe you prefer a Disney one?" Robb asked, and he got a disapproving stare from Eddard that was identical to Talisa's. It was kind of creepy, actually.

Eddard shook his head. "No, Dad, I don't like Disney movies. I want to watch the Dark Knight, it's the one that had the Joker on it!"

"But sweetheart, that movie is the second one..." Talisa said, trying to convince her son to pick another movie. They all liked Batman, they just were not so sure that it was appropriate for Eddard to watch it just yet. "If you haven;t seen the first movie, how are you going to know what happens in the story?"

"But I already watched the first one!" Eddard protested.

His parents frowned. "You did?"

"Yes."

They looked at Theon with judging glares, and he stared back at them with innocent eyes. When he saw that Robb and Talisa were thinking that he had been the one that had given the first Batman movie to their son, he raised his hands in the air in a defensive way.

"Don't look at me! I didn't watch that movie with the kid!" he protested. As bad a influence as he was on Eddard the whole time, he did not want to be blamed for something that he was not guilty about.

"Then who...?"

"I watched it with uncle Jon," Eddard confessed then. Robb sighed again. He should have known! He remembered when Jon and him where kids and used to dress up as different superheroes. Robb liked to dress up as Superman or Spiderman, and Jon always dressed up as Batman,  _always_. It was Jon's favorite, and he once made Robb dress up as the Scarecrow to fight him.

"Of course he did..." Robb laughed under his breath. "Well, if you liked that movie then I suppose that The Dark Knight it is then!"

He changed the channel with the remote control, looked for the movie that his son wanted in the options, found it, selected it, and played it. As soon as Catelyn saw Batman appear, she remembered the same thing that Robb had remembered mere moments ago.

"Oh! I remember when you boys would dress up in those costumes!" she said with a bright smile upon recalling that memory. She hadn't liked Jon very much during the first years of his life, but as time went on she began to care for her stepson until she ended up loving him as one of her children, and that memory was a sweet one. "Arya would try to join you sometimes, even though she was so little."

"She did?" Talisa asked, amused by that, and Robb nodded. Theon laughed loudly from his armchair.

"She did! She dressed up as Robin Hood and tried to shoot everyone in the ass with fake arrows. Thank God they were fake, or she would have cut my..."

" ** _THEON!_** " Catelyn and Talisa shouted in unison, muting him for an instant.

"... right off," he continued saying, ignoring both women.

"Where is aunt Arya?" Eddard asked then. It was normal that he asked; he hadn't seen his aunt in over a year.

Robb looked at Talisa, and then at his mother and he bit his lip. He had no idea of what to say, but he didn't want to lie to Eddard. They didn't know where Arya was. However, those news would be very hard for Eddard, who had already cried with his grandfather's death. He would not like knowing that his favorite aunt, the one that always played with him and took him everywhere he wanted even when his parents didn't want him to go to that place, was missing.

"She... She is in... She's traveling," Robb mumbled, deciding that that wasn't that much of a lie after all.

"With Jon and Bran and Rickon?" Eddard asked.

"Umm... no. No, Jon and Bran and Rickon are in Rome. Your aunt, she is in... um..."

"She is in Essos," Talisa said then, interrupting when she saw that her husband had no idea of what to say. Eddard looked at her with curiosity.

"In Essos?"

"Yes. SHe wanted to see it all, you see? Every single corner of it. And because it is a very big country, it takes her a very long time to go back, so that why she is not back yet."

"And why doesn't she call? Or send pictures?"

"Well, because one has to travel very very much to find a phone, and there is a lot of sun there and it makes it difficult to take pictures, because they all turn out wrong."

Eddard seemed satisfied with that answer, but took a moment to think before murmuring:

"Everyone leaves..."

Robb felt incredibly guilty at that point, because he could see how much it affected his son that his family was apart, and he was not going to make the situation any better with his job. Because of the elections, he had to travel, and he had to do it soon.

"But they will come back!" he said, smiling and rubbing his son's shoulders with his hand. "Before you even know it, Bran and Rickon will be here, and Jon will probably visit too! An who knows... maybe aunt Arya will come too once they come back!"

Eddard liked that idea, and he smiled happily.

"Yes! And aunt Sansa?"

"Aunt Sansa can come too. She's just too busy with her job and her wedding."

"Can we go to her wedding?"

"Maybe, yes," Robb nodded, though he did not like that idea. Apparently, Theon didn't either.

"If I go to that wedding, I'll end up punching that little shit in the face," he groaned, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn.

" _Theon!_ " Catelyn and Talisa scolded him again for his foul language, but he just simply didn't care.

"Will you have to go, Dad?" Eddard asked then. He was a smart boy, and Robb couldn't keep many secrets from him.

Feeling bad about it, he nodded. "Yes, Ned. I will have to go because of my job. But I will be back soon, I promise."

"Will I see you on TV?"

"Yes, you most definitely will."

"Then that's fine," Eddard said, not too worried about it, and Robb felt instantly better. He felt relieved knowing that his son would not be sad to see him go, because he could still be able to see him while he was gone. With a smile, he embraced his son and kept watching the movie in peace with his wife, mother, and best friend.

An hour later, they had their eyes glued to the screen, where the Joker was too busy blowing up a hospital, and all the popcorn was gone. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of the movie, and Eddard's gasp from time to time each time something shocking happened, which was quite often. Robb was amazed to discover how much he was enjoying the movie. Theon was behaving like a little boy watching the action scenes, and even Catelyn and Talisa were enjoying the movie very much.

The phone rang then. It highly annoyed Robb, who wondered if he could ever have a bit of piece and quiet with his family in that house. The phone kept ringing and ringing, and he knew that he had to answer it: it could be something important. With a sigh, he stood up from the armchair in which he had been sitting with Eddard. The little boy was so fascinated with the movie that he didn't even seem to notice when his father left.

Robb crossed the living room to reach the phone. He cold feel his wife's dark curious eyes on his back, and he picked up the ringing phone.

"Hello?" he said, answering the call.

He expected to hear some boring politician's voice at the other side of the line, but the reality couldn't be more different. When the person that was calling spoke, Robb felt that the world started spinning. It was impossible! She hadn't called in such a long time!

" _Hi, big brother,_ " she said, her voice deeper than what it used to be, more mature.

"Arya!"

That simple word made everyone quit watching the TV and turn their heads towards him all at once; they were staring at him in disbelief.

"Arya?!" his mother asked, and Robb thought that she sounded desperate. She hadn't seen her daughter in over a year, and that was only the second time she contacted them. She stood up immediately from the couch, as did Talisa and Theon, and they were immediately in front of Robb, wanting to know what was going on.

"Arya, where are you?"

 _"I can't talk for long,"_  she said. All that mystery was making him nervous. however, his younger sister answered his question. " _I'm in Westeros._ "

That shocked Robb. She was in Westeros? All that time she was gone, and now all of a sudden she was back? Just like that? He didn't understand anything.

"Do-do you want us to pick you up somewhere?" he asked, anxious to see her again.

" _No_ ," she answered immediately. " _I... I can't go back yet. There's something I need to do first."_

"Robb, what is she saying?!" Catelyn asked impatiently, wanting to know what was happening with her youngest daughter, but Robb hushed her.

"Arya, what...?"

" _I've got to go. But I promise, you'll hear from me real soon."_

Robb tried to stop her, but Arya had already hung up. He didn't notice Catelyn, Talisa, Eddard and Theon all staring at him waiting to be told what was going on. No words could rom in his mouth at that moment.

What he couldn't get out f his mind was the way in which his sister's voice seemed to carry a dark threat with it, and it made him feel cold.


	9. Don't Know What's Going On.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated faster than I thought I would! I finished my finals, so I had plenty of time today ^^
> 
> Sorry that the story is going slowly, but it has to be like this. A lot of things will happen soon, I promise ;)
> 
> I took the name of the chapter from the song Gone Forever by Three Days Grace.

He could hear them yelling. He had no idea how the fight started, but it had been going on for quite a while now. He did know that Joffrey had been the one that started it, that was for sure. Since he met her, he’d always noticed that Sansa was very quiet around Joffrey and very much the pacifist. But clearly that night something happened that upset both of them.

It wasn't the first fight that Sandor overheard between his boss and Sansa. The first time he heard them yelling like that at bedtime, he’d been concerned, thinking that something very bad had happened, but it turned out that it had only been a disagreement. They seemed to disagree a lot, and so Sandor had grown accustomed to their fighting, along with the rest of the household.

But that night was the worst that he’d ever heard. Usually it was just Joffrey yelling at Sansa until he got tired and went to sleep. This time, however, Sansa was yelling back at the top of her lungs. Sandor didn't know if it was a good thing that the girl was fighting back, or horribly bad.

...Probably the latter.

He couldn't really hear what they were yelling about. He just heard their voices all the way on the other side of the mansion. They were being so loud that Sandor doubted that anyone in the Red Keep was able to sleep. He certainly wasn't, and he kept turning over in bed, trying to sleep, but his eyes remained wide open. He wasn't sure if the reason he was still awake was because of the noise or because, deep down, he was concerned... He knew what a bad temper Joffrey could have with Sansa, he had _seen_ it. Sandor had to admit that, at first, he hadn't liked the girl... He had never liked fancy people who had everything so fucking easy in life and that were so fucking perfect in every way, but he had managed to get to know her a little better over the little amount of time they had spent together, and he had to admit that the young woman wasn't that bad after all. Her life definitely wasn't perfect because she had a future husband that was a little shit and treated her in the worst way possible. Why Sansa put up with that, Sandor still didn't know. But whatever the reasons might be, Sansa didn't deserve that.

He tried to listen, wanting to know what it was that they were arguing about. It was probably about her brother again, Governor Stark. With each day that passed, Joffrey was more pissed off about his opposition in the campaign, and he took it out on his fiancée. As if she had anything to do with that!

He managed to hear some random words that they shouted, but it wasn't enough to figure out what the fight was about. They seemed to go on and on forever, until Joffrey yelled again, and suddenly everything was silent.

Sandor waited, thinking that they would start yelling all over again... But no. Apparently, the fight was over. He felt a crushing sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he had no idea why, but suddenly he felt anxious. He sat up in his bed and stared at the door of his room, feeling the urge to stand up and walk out, but he didn't... Not until he heard someone going down the stairs of the Red Keep. He frowned, moved the bed sheets out of his way, and stood up from the bed. He walked straight to the door, not bothering to put slippers on, and he walked out into the hall in only his pajama pants and a white t-shirt. The floor was cold, but he didn't mind, so he walked towards the staircase and went to the first floor. Everything was so silent now that when someone made noise in the kitchen, he could hear it from where he was. He went to the kitchen and saw no light, even though there was clearly someone inside messing with the kitchen drawers. Sandor stopped at the doorway and turned the light on, suddenly illuminating the room.

Sansa jumped, startled by the sudden light, and turned around to face him. First she looked shocked, but then she sighed with relief.

"Sorry," she said, apologizing for having been startled. Sandor thought that apologizing for that was ridiculous. "I thought that you were-"

"Joffrey?" Sandor finished for her, and raised an eyebrow. Sansa looked a little embarrassed, and then she nodded slightly.

"Yes..."

"I could hear you from the other side of the fucking mansion," Sandor growled, and Sansa gritted her teeth, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," she said again, lowering her gaze. Sandor scoffed.

"Stop apologizing."

He half expected her to apologize again, but she didn't. She just stood there in silence. Sandor took that moment of stillness and silence to take a good look at her. She was wearing normal pajamas, pink and white, and she was barefoot as well. Her hair was a mess, and it fell covering half her face. She looked very tired, and about to cry. That was when Sandor noticed the kitchen drawer that she’d opened before he came in and he frowned when he saw that it was the one that had all the medicines and pills inside.

"What are you doing...?" he slowly rasped, looking at the open kitchen drawer and then at her with suspicious eyes. He really hoped that she hadn't been thinking of doing something really stupid.

"I was looking for some sleeping tablets," she said, hardly meeting his eyes. "And some painkillers..."

"Why?"

"My... I have... cramps," she whispered, and Sandor could tell right away that she was lying. It was so fucking obvious when she lied that it kind of made him mad. He was about to ask her again what the real reason she wanted those pills was, but she turned her face away from him. She was still avoiding his eyes, and she was hugging herself, shaking.

He took a few steps towards her, very slowly. Normally he didn't give a fuck about those things, but he didn't want to scare her at that moment. When he was standing in front of her he took her chin in his hand with a gentleness that he didn't even know he was capable of, and he carefully moved her face so that she would look at him. With his other hand he brushed her hair away from her face, and then he saw it: a red, swollen mark of the size and shape of Joffrey's hand. Her eye, now fully visible, was turning black. Sandor's fingers had just barely touched Sansa's skin, but nevertheless she had a pained expression in her face.

Sandor felt that now familiar anger burning away at his insides.

" _Fuck_ ," he cursed under his breath.

Sansa really did look like she was about to cry then, but she didn't. She was strong, and Sandor had to admit that she amazed him. And at the same time, she confused him. Why was she putting up with all this shit?

He didn't ask. As much as he wanted to get a fucking answer to that question, he did not want to upset her more than she already was. He didn't say a word as he looked away from her beautiful, tear-filled, swollen bright blue eyes, and reached into the open drawer to look for the painkillers. He figured that she was really in pain. He took two of them (they were small doses) and he took a glass, filled it with water, and brought it to her. He still didn't say a word, and neither did she, but he could see the appreciation in her eyes. Sansa put the pills inside her mouth and washed them down with the glass of water, and then Sandor crossed the kitchen to the freezer. He opened it and found some ice cubes in a bucket. He took them out, grabbed a piece of kitchen paper and wrapped the ice cubes in it, and walked back to Sansa.

"This is going to hurt a bit," he rasped, and he pressed the improvised ice pack against her swollen face.

" _Ouch_ ," Sansa hissed, and a bit of the pained expression took over her features again, but she didn't complain anymore.

Sandor kept pressing the ice against her face, and both of them just stood there in silence, looking each other in the eyes. Instead of feeling uncomfortable or awkward, Sandor felt a confusing mix of sensations. He felt calm, and rage, and a funny thing in his stomach that he couldn't quite recognize. He didn't see the repulsion that other people had when they looked at his face in Sansa's eyes. He saw sadness, and at the same time, happiness.

Sansa Stark was, without a doubt, a disconcerting creature.

"What happened?" he asked then, finally breaking the silence. Sansa grimaced.

"Joffrey got mad..."

"I think I already knew that," he rasped, taking the ice away a bit to see if the swelling was going down or not. It seemed to be getting better, but there was nothing to really stop her eye from turning black.

"It's... It was nothig, really. It was just stupid," Sansa said, feeling uncomfortable once again. She didn't want to tell Sandor the real reason for her fight with Joffrey, but the bodyguard insisted.

" _This_ doesn't look like nothing," he barked, looking at the spot where Joffrey had slapped her. "You were yelling at each other for a fucking long time. And don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "I'm not saying that it was your fault, if that's what you think."

"But maybe it was my fault..."

"Bullshit. No man should ever hit a defenseless woman, much less his future wife," he barked, feeling really upset about it.

Sansa looked puzzled. She always had that same expression every single fucking time that he did something nice for her. When he rescued her from the crazy mob of fans that almost crushed her, when he bought food when she was hungry, and now when he was helping and defending her in the only way that he could, even if it wasn't much. He wondered if Sansa still believed, just as everyone else did, that he was some kind of monster.

 _The scars in your face are to blame for that,_ a bitter voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"I refused to sleep with him," she whispered then, and her face turned dark red. Sandor froze, and he stared at her in disbelief.

"Sleep with him? As in..."

"Yes."

"And he hit you. Because of that." Sandor said between gritted teeth. It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.

"Yes," she nodded. "We started arguing. One thing led to the other and soon we were fighting over everything and... Well, you can see what happened next."

She laughed, probably as a better alternative than crying. His hands curled into fists, and he crushed the ice that he was holding.

"Has he ever forced you?" he asked, knowing that if the answer was yes, he would climb the stairs right then and there to beat Joffrey into a bloody pulp. Sandor could tolerate many things, but he couldn't tolerate that. To his relief, Sansa shook her head, and he could tell that she was telling the truth.

"No. But once we’re married, he... will want sons, I suppose."

Sandor was about to tell her to break up with Joffrey, but he didn't. Why bother? He’d already tried to convince her before, and she hadn't listened to him, so he wasn't going to waste his time trying again. He chose to remain silent, pressing the now crushed ice against her face, which wasn't so badly swollen anymore.

"You’re going to have a black eye in the morning," he told her, knowing that she wouldn't be happy about it. He hoped that she didn't have any public events to attend in the next few days, or she was screwed. There was no way that she could properly excuse her appearance without people being suspicious of Joffrey and what had really happened.

Sansa whimpered. She was a strong woman, but she did not want to have a black eye, and it would still hurt in the next couple of days.

"I'll give you something for it, don't worry," Sandor told her then, amazing himself with the amount of care that he was displaying that night, when he usually was a brute to everybody. But there was something in Sansa Stark that simply did not allow him to act the same way around her as with everyone else.

A little smile appeared in the corner of Sansa's mouth. Sandor was confused by that little smile, not sure where it came from. Once again, silence reigned over them as he kept the ice on the side of her face and they looked at each other in the eye. Once again, Sandor was amazed at the lack of fear in Sansa's eyes. He didn't see sadness there anymore; now they shone with a certain spark... Sandor wasn't sure what to think of it. He usually had no problem reading people, but at that moment he was having trouble reading her.

"You surprise me, Sandor Clegane," Sansa said then. It was barely a whisper, and somehow it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He stared at her and frowned.

"Is that so?"

"Yes..."

"Why?" he rasped.

"When I first saw you, you scared me. You had this... rage in your eyes. It was horrible, and it made me feel so afraid... But now I understand. It's all just a pose. You are rough and rude to maintain that "tough guy" position to scare people off and intimidate them."

If anyone else had said that, it would have angered Sandor to a point where he would have beat that poor idiot until all his teeth fell out. But it had been Sansa, and he just stood there like a statue, not knowing how to react, still holding the crushed ice against her face. It was melting inside his big, calloused hand, and some drops were falling to the kitchen floor, making a small pool there.

He would have given anything, paid anything, to be able to know what was going through the young woman's mind at that moment. He wanted to know exactly what she was thinking, and why she was saying those things. Sandor didn't fully understand her, but he wanted to. It angered him to not being able to understand her completely.

"Is that what you think?" he finally asked, and she nodded.

"Yes..."

"So what am I really?" he rasped, wanting to know what she really thought of him. On any other occasion, he might have laughed off her previous statement. She was mistaken, it wasn't a pose, he didn’t want to scare people off. He was who he was, and there was no changing it. People got scared of him on their own, because of his face. They would always be scared of him and hate him. But he wasn't going to laugh at the girl that night. He just wasn't. And he really wanted to fucking know what all that was about, what she thought of him now...

She surprised him yet again by placing her small, delicate porcelain hand over the hand that held the ice against her face.

"You’re a good man," she said.

He scoffed under his breath. "I am not."

"Yes, you are. You try to hide it, even from yourself, but you can't fool me, not anymore."

"If you really think that, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought."

"Am I really?" she asked. There was still a small smile on her face. "You have taken better care of me than anyone else has since my father was killed. You are the only one that doesn't want to use me, you speak to me with the truth, you say what you really think, you don’t lie... And you... _care_ for me. In your own way."

"Even if what you’re saying is true, how would you know it?"

"By the way you act," she said. "Every time that you do something to help me, you do it fully knowing that it will make Joffrey, your own boss, angry. And no one wants to make Joffrey angry."

"Joffrey can go and fuck himself," he rasped.

"See what I mean?" Sansa said, raising her eyebrows. "You always help me when he hurts me. Everyone else just... looks the other way and pretends that nothing is happening. And then they just leave."

"I never help you while he’s hurting you. I never stop him when he strikes you, or when he yells at you, or when he goes around the city humiliating you, parading his lover around," Sandor barked.

"Well, I don't intend you to perform miracles," Sansa whispered. "But what you’re doing now means a lot to me. Thank you very much, Sandor. Really."

He didn't say anything; he just stared at her in silence. A few moments later, he was glad that he hadn't said anything because they heard a voice that came from the doorway.

"Sansa?"

Sandor turned around immediately, mentally cursing when he saw Joffrey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at them with narrowed eyes. Sansa had immediately removed her hand from his and she was as still as a statue looking at her fiancé, but there wasn't any emotion on her face. No fear, no anxiety... Her eyes were just empty all of a sudden. Sandor looked at her and then back at his boss, waiting for him to say something. For what seemed like an endless eternity, Joffrey just stood there in his pajamas and his robe, staring at them with a dark shadow covering his green eyes...

His gaze flitted back and forth between his bodyguard and his fiancée with interest, studying them both. Sandor could feel Sansa getting tense, and he himself didn't like the look on Joffrey's face. Who knew what the fuck was going on through his mind, and he didn't want to get Sansa into any more trouble that night. Joffrey finally decided to speak.

"Sansa, love..." he said with fake sweetness, "go back to bed. It's very late, you must be exhausted."

Sansa didn't protest. She just glanced at Sandor for half a second before leaving his side. She walked out the door without even looking at Joffrey, and disappeared from sight. Sandor expected Joffrey to go after her, but he didn't. The young Governor was still standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was thinking, staring at his bodyguard with inquisitive eyes.

"What was going on in here?" he asked. His voice was a cold hiss.

Sandor shrugged. "I came down here to get a glass of water," he lied. He didn't like liars, but he was good at it. "She was here, that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Sandor knew that Joffrey didn't believe him. He could see the suspicion in his eyes. However, his young boss didn't say anything on the matter. He just nodded his head slightly.

"Alright then," he said, his expression back to normal. He didn't even say good bye as he left the kitchen to go back to bed, and Sandor didn't care. He threw the ice away, dried his hands, and left the kitchen, turning the lights off as he made his way out.

He climbed the stairs, but he didn't go straight to his room. Instead, he went to the next floor. He needed to make sure that everything was alright.

He hated to admit it, but Sansa Stark had been right about him before. As strange and confusing as it was, he did care for her, and he was concerned after learning why Joffrey had hit her earlier. He knew where the girl's room was, so he walked very quietly towards her door. It was closed, but he could see the light coming out in the space between it and the floor. He heard footsteps, and then the lights went off and everything was silent. Sansa was alone in her room, and she was alright.

Sandor didn't linger: he just turned around and went back to his own room, still unable to get rid of that crushing sensation that he’d had in his chest when he first heard Joffrey and Sansa fighting.


	10. Little Red Dot.

Three weeks had passed since the night Sandor found Sansa in the kitchen after her fight with her fiancée. He had hardly seen the girl since; she stayed in her room most of the time and when she wasn't there, she was at the recording studio. The few times that Sandor caught a glimpse of her, she was wearing huge fancy sunglasses that hid her black eye, and he felt the urge to snap Joffrey's neck, especially after seeing the smug smirk on his boss's face.

There wasn't anything that he could do, and he didn't want to get in trouble anyways. Sansa had been right; Joffrey was easily displeased. Sandor had had half a lifetime to see that for himself, and so he made sure of never letting Joffrey know (at least, no more than he already knew from what he what he had seen) about his closeness with Sansa that night in the kitchen, when he was helping her with the ice. He never showed that kind of kindness towards anyone. He had been many things in his life, but never kind. He always treated people with indifference, and those that he did not were people he hated, like his brother. But something within him made him treat the Stark girl better than the rest of them. He might have thought all kinds of bad things about her since he met her, but now something let him know that she didn't deserve any of the shit that she was getting.

Maybe it was the way she looked at him. Like he was a person, not an animal or some monster, like the rest of them did. She was different.

The whole situation frustrated Sandor. He had never in his life cared for anyone. Not even for his family, and he hadn't had any friends since he was a little boy, back when he was normal. Back when people didn't see him and whisper in horror " _freak_ ", or " _monster_ ".

The life he had chosen didn't allow him to really care for anyone either, even if he had wanted to. However, he had not wanted to care for Sansa Stark, he had wanted to  ** _hate_**  her…

…He just couldn't.

 _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He asked to himself one day, waiting outside the mansion in front of the gates of the Red Keep.

He hated the situation. He couldn't even get those strange thoughts out of his mind when he was working!

All the bodyguards were waiting with him for Joffrey and the rest of the Baratheon/Lannister family to come out. There was a very important public debate that day, and they had to get going. It was the first time that Governor Joffrey Baratheon, Governor Robb Stark and Governor Renly Baratheon would all get together and acknowledge each other as rivals in the political campaign, and then confront each other in a live debate in front of the whole nation. It was a much anticipated debate with a lot of attention on it, and there was a lot of pressure on the three Governors' shoulders. Joffrey was particularly irritable that day, and Sandor wished that it had been his day off so that he didn't have to put up with him. But he'd never been very lucky in his life, and that wasn't about to change now.

They had been standing outside the Red Keep for a while when the doors opened and Cersei Lannister came out accompanied by her younger son and her daughter. One of the bodyguards, Meryn, opened the door of one of the black limos for them, and closed it once the three golden haired members of the family were inside the car.

The next person to come out of the mansion was Joffrey. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, prepared to dazzle the nation with his dashing Lannister good looks and his fake charm during the debate. However, he had little of that charm around him at that moment. He was very irritated.

Sandor opened the door of the second limo for his boss, and allowed Joffrey to step inside.

" _Dog!_ " Joffrey called him before Sandor could close the door of the limo again, "go in and make Sansa come out here. I don't know what's taking her so long!"

Sandor nodded, letting Joffrey know that he would do as told, and then he closed the door. He turned around and walked back into the mansion, which was almost completely empty at that point. He climbed the stairs and walked straight towards Sansa's room, but he hesitated when he reached the door, which was only halfway open. He looked inside the room and saw Sansa going from one end of the room to the other; she looked like she was looking for something, and she looked desperate.

Sandor frowned, wondering what the hell she was doing, and he finally decided to knock on the door. Sansa gasped and turned to look at the door, but relaxed when she saw that it was him.

"Sorry!" she apologized, returning to her desperate search. "You always scare me when you appear so suddenly! Come in!"

He completely opened the door and walked inside the room. He looked around with a bit of interest; the walls were light green, and it wasn't over decorated. There was a queen size bed, a huge closet with double doors, an oak wardrobe, an armchair, a library full of books and CDs, and a huge vanity. At that moment, Sansa was opening all the drawers in the vanity and moving around everything inside them, sighing with frustration.

Sandor looked at  _her_  with a lot more interest than he had the room. She was wearing a tight black dress, cut just a little above her knees. The neckline was low-cut without being vulgar, and it showed just a bit of her shoulders and back. It was a simple dress that made her look elegant and beautiful. Sandor doubted he had ever seen such a beautiful woman in his life, and he also doubted that any other woman on Earth could look so good dressed in black.

When he noticed that he was staring at her backside, he shook his head and coughed.

"What are you doing?" he asked then, wondering why she was messing the whole place up.

"Looking for my ring," she answered. Her voice was full of anxiety, as if she was about to have a panic attack.

"You have a ton of rings, why don't you just put on another one?" he wondered.

He didn't understand why she was wasting so much time and getting so upset over finding a ring when she could just pick another one and get on with it. Did she even need a ring?

"You don't understand!" she cried. "It's not just any ring, it's my engagement ring! I can't go out without it, Joffrey will kill me! And the press, oh my God, if they see me without the ring..."

Now Sandor knew the real cause of her distress. He could perfectly understand that for her to be seen without her engagement ring on a day as important as this one could be taken as an offense by Joffrey. Sandor didn't want Sansa getting into any more trouble anytime soon.

"Shit. Here, girl, let me help you," he said, and he started looking between the pillows of the bed. Many things were often lost between pillows. Sansa was still looking inside all the drawers; she was breathing hard and fast. "Hey, calm down," Sandor said, fearing that she would pass out at any second.

"I can't calm down! I need to find that... that  _fucking_  ring!" she hissed.

Sandor raised his eyebrows in surprise when he heard her curse. Sansa, the ever-so-polite young lady, had a temper when she was on her last nerve. She wasn't the shy, quiet, proper young woman that she usually was, and Sandor kind of liked it.

"Where do you usually put the ring when you take it off?" he asked, trying to make the search easier and faster.

"I don't know. Anywhere."

"Don't most women wear those goddamn rings at all times? Why weren't you?"

"I never wear it," Sansa snorted. She closed the last drawer of the vanity and walked towards her closet. She opened it and started searching inside all the pockets of all the clothes.

"Why?"

"I don't want to wear something that reminds me of the future that awaits me... with a man... that I want as far away from me as possible!"

"Then why are you marrying him?!"

"Because..." for a moment Sansa looked hesitant. Maybe she was trying to decide if she should tell him the real reason or not. Apparently, she decided against it, because she just whispered, "Just because. Now I  _really_  need that ring..."

Sandor threw the pillows back in their place when he saw that the ring wasn't there. He didn't go to the vanity because Sansa had just searched there moments ago and was now searching the closet. The closest thing to him was a big piece of furniture with multiple drawers, and he opened the first of them. He was shocked when the first thing that he saw were laced bras and panties, all matched together... He stared at the lingerie for a second and then glanced at Sansa (who, thankfully, had her back turned to him and didn't see what he was doing) and for a second he imagined her dressed only in one of those incredibly sexy black lace panties and bra...

He realized what he was doing, and shook his head to rid himself of the perfect mental image. What in seven fucking buggering hells was he doing?! He took his eyes away from Sansa and closed the drawer quickly and opened another one right before Sansa closed the doors of the closet and turned around to face him again. He was lucky, and she just saw him going through some normal t-shirts. Sandor didn't know much about the young woman yet, but he could bet that he did  _not_  want to be caught staring at her lingerie while imagining provocative…  _things_  in his mind.

He was puzzled with himself. Why in seven hells had that image come to his mind?! Sansa was Joffrey's fiancée, and he could _not_  imagine her like that! It would only bring him trouble, nothing else.

He grunted without really realizing that he was doing it, and kept searching for the goddamn bloody ring. Sansa heard him and looked at him while frowning.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?" he rasped.

"That."

"I have no fucking idea what you are talking about."

"Oh, forget it!" she exclaimed angrily.

 _She's nervous, don't get angry with her,_  Sandor reminded himself in his mind.

After seeing that the ring was nowhere between the t-shirts, he closed the drawer and looked at Sansa. She looked like she was about to hyperventilate or cry. If she was like that because of anything else, he might have laughed at her. However, he understood her current situation, and he pitied her. She was right when she had said that Joffrey would not like it at all if anyone, especially the cameras, noticed the absence of that important piece of jewelry. The press could start rumors and stupid gossip, and it would just make Joffrey look bad. Sandor knew his boss well enough to know that that could end in tragedy.

He said the first thing that he could think of to cheer her up.

"You are going to see your family today," he commented, and he saw a flicker of happiness in Sansa's bright blue eyes. "They will be there to support your brother. And who knows? Maybe Governor Stark will kick Joff's ass a bit, eh?"

"Yes... maybe. Robb was always very good at debates," Sansa nodded with a bit of hope, but not much.

Sandor looked across the room, and just as his sight was passing over the armchair, he saw something sparkly there. Without saying a word, he walked towards it and reached out with his hand to take the sparkling object that was hidden under the cushion... And there it was; the ring. With a triumphant smile, he took it with the tips of his fingers and turned around to face Sansa. He looked at the ring first (a ruby-encrusted gold ring with a big diamond in the middle) and then at Sansa, and he presented the ring to her. She gasped, amazed that he had found it. She smiled, not of happiness but of relief, and Sandor's lips curled up in a smile as well.

"I guess you won't be getting into trouble today, little bird," he rasped. She crossed to where he was, took the ring and put it on her finger, and Sansa looked him in the eyes with a genuine smile on her face. There was a second of silence, and he was taken aback when she threw her arms around his body and hugged him with all her strength.

"Thank you so much, Sandor," she said with real gratitude.

He felt a bit of awkward, but he felt compelled to hug her as well... so he did. He returned the hug, embracing her with his huge, awkward arms.

"You're welcome, little bird..."

After the brief hug, Sansa let him go, looked at him one last time with a smile on her face, and left her room leaving him behind. He was frozen in place for a second; it was as if his mind was blank and he had forgotten how to walk. After he recovered, he walked out of the room behind Sansa, who was already going down the stairs to meet her fiancé and his family outside of the mansion. Sandor walked out of the mansion right at the same time that Sansa was getting inside the limo with Joffrey. She left the door open for him, and he joined them inside. As Joffrey's personal bodyguard, he had to accompany him at all moments.

Joffrey looked at both of them with a nasty glare of his face, clearly displeased with them.

"What took so long?"

Sansa was the first to answer: "I was in the bathroom. Clegane had to wait for me."

"You always make me wait every time we go somewhere. The next time you do that, I will teach you to prepare faster," he threatened her. Sansa tensed up, but she knew that Joffrey could not touch her for as long as her family was in the city and could see her. The Governor of the Crownlands wasn't that stupid.

Sandor wondered how the little bird's family would be, and if they would figure out that there was something wrong with that engagement, just as he had. Would they try to talk some sense into her and make her break up with Joffrey? And if they did try, would she keep being so fucking stubborn about it?

His best guess was yes. Sansa Stark was a lost cause.

He didn't pay much attention to the couple or to the streets that passed as the limo made its way to the Sept of Baelor, the place where the public debate would take place in front of the whole nation.

The Sept of Baelor was one of the most important and historical buildings in Westeros. It was an enormous cathedral, built centuries ago back when there was still monarchy in Westeros, and the people there kept to a different religion, the Faith of the Seven. Now, in the 21st century, Westeros was a nation of multiple religions. Everyone believed in whomever they wanted to believe, but the Sept of Baelor was still the most important of all the religious places in the county. Due to its history, all the important events happened there, on the steps.

Sandor knew immediately when they had arrived due to the thunderous noise that came into the car from outside. He confirmed that they had arrived in the city square in front of the steps of Sept of Baelor when the limo was suddenly completely surrounded by people who applauded and cheered for their favorite political leaders. There were people from all around the country there: most of them were from King's Landing, but people from other regions could also be recognized among the crowds because of their slight differences.

The limo parked in a safe place reserved only for the politicians and their families, next to the Sept of Baelor. The chauffeur opened the door of the limo, and Joffrey was the first one to come out. As soon as he did, the crowd burst out with even more thunderous applause and cheering than before, and the sound wasn't muffled by the doors of the limo anymore, so it was a bit deafening for a moment. Sandor grimaced, annoyed by all the noise and the people. He waited for Sansa to get out of the limo, and listened as the crowd went mad with joy when they saw her. She smiled the most genuine smile that Sandor had ever seen on her face, and she raised her hand and waved in the air to greet the people who loved her so much. Joffrey stared at his fiancée with what looked like a mixture of curiosity, amazement, and jealousy. Sansa didn't pay Joffrey any attention until he took her hand (she gasped lightly, though no one noticed) and he waved to the people as well, pretending to be the perfect and caring gentleman, putting on a fake smile for the people whom he hoped would vote for him and make him their President.

Sandor stepped out of the limo last and joined Joffrey, Sansa, and the two other bodyguards, Meryn and Boros, who had been waiting for them outside the limo. The three bodyguards escorted the Governor and the singer to where the rest of the family was standing on a platform next to the steps of the Sept. Not only the Lannisters were there. Renly Baratheon was there as well, accompanied by his wife Margaery and the rest of the Tyrell family. And next to them was...

" ** _Robb!_** "

Sansa completely ignored the look of annoyance that her fiancé shot her and parted from his side, running like a little girl towards her older brother. As soon as he heard his name, Governor Robb Stark turned his head and smiled widely when he saw his sister in front of him, and reached out his arms to welcome her into a loving embrace. The flashes of the cameras went off everywhere as everyone tried to take the perfect picture of the Stark siblings' reunion for a journal or magazine. Sansa was overwhelmed with joy, and even had to wipe off a few tears of happiness that almost escaped her eyes when she separated from her brother, and then she proceeded to hug the rest of her family. Her mother was there, and so was her sister-in-law and her younger brothers, Bran (who was in a wheelchair) and Rickon. She almost cried seeing all of them, but she remained solemn. Sandor figured that she did not want to seem overly happy and raise suspicions between the people who were watching.

Sansa stayed with her family, talking to them for a bit while Joffrey went with his own family. Tywin Lannister had flown all the way from Lannisport to be with his grandson that day and give him some counseling on what he had to do. That meant, of course, that his loyal bodyguard was with him as well, and Sandor had no wish to see or speak to his older brother Gregor... who was staring at Sansa with the same sickening, lustful, sinister and lascivious glare that he had directed to her that night at Casterly Rock. Sandor felt his insides twisting, and without a second thought on the matter, he strategically stood next to Joffrey in a way that he blocked Gregor from seeing Sansa. Gregor cast Sandor a knowing look, but the younger Clegane brother decided to ignore it, maintaining his expressionless and distant façade.

As much as he wanted to turn around and stare at Sansa for a little bit while she was so happy (a mood in he'd never seen her in before), he knew he couldn't. He couldn't show any kind of interest in front of his brother, and much less in front of the Lannisters and Joffrey. So instead of staring, he listened. He could hear her cheerful laughs and conversation, and lost in the sound of her beautiful voice, he accidentally allowed the small curl of a smile appear in the corner of his scarred mouth.

He knew that had been a huge mistake as soon as he came back to reality and saw the look in his brother's grey eyes, so similar to his own, yet much darker.

Sansa was lucky that she was such a public figure and the sister and future wife of two Governors. She was (apart from Joffrey) untouchable. That was the only thing that kept Sandor from freaking out. Nothing good ever came from his brother when he had that look in his eyes.

It wasn't long until the three Governors left their families and started walking up the steps of the Sept, where three podiums awaited them. When they reached the top of the steps, they shook hands with each other. Renly had no problem doing so with his nephew and Robb Stark, and he still had a smile on his face as he shook their hands, but there was a noticeable tension between Joffrey and Robb.

Each one of them took their place behind the podiums, facing the incredibly large crowd, and smiled and waved, silently thanking their supporters for being there. In the moments before the debate started, Sansa left her family, much to her sorrow, and returned with the Baratheons and Lannisters. After all, she might be the sister of Governor Stark, but she was getting married to Governor Joffrey Baratheon and it was he whom she had to support, thus she had to stay with his family and not her own. Sandor could see in her expression that she hated that, and she saw the hope but also the fear in her eyes when Robb was the first one to leave his podium, which was the central one of the three (Renly was at his right, and Joffrey was at his left) and walked up to a fourth podium, which was placed right in front of the other three. He stepped on it and addressed the Westerosi crowd with passion, serenity and a conviction and sincerity rare in politicians those days.

All the Stark family members watched with pride as the young Governor spoke to the people about the problems inside Westeros that needed to be fixed. He planned to eliminate political corruption, and procure better health care and security for the people of Westeros. He wanted a brighter future for every following generation.

It was a speech that reached the people's hearts, but Sandor very well knew that it just placed Robb in the black book of many politicians who would not be happy about his internal policy and his methods. Corruption was everywhere in Westeros, and it was no place for an honorable man like Governor Robb Stark, just as it hadn't been the place for Vice President Ned Stark.

After about twenty minutes, Robb was dismissed with a deafening round of applause from a large part of the crowd, and he returned to his podium in the back, next to the other two. The next one to go was Renly Baratheon. He was received with thunderous applause as well, for he was very loved all over the country by almost everyone. Sandor rolled his eyes, bored and annoyed, but he had no other option than standing there and waiting for about two more hours until all that was over. First, the three candidates had to present their policies and their expectations for the future if they were to become President, then there would be the debate between all of them to try and gain more supporters.

Renly was a very carefree most of the times; he knew that he was going to win. For now, the entire Reach, the Stormlands, Dorne (and it was rumored that the State of Riverlands was divided between him and Governor Stark) supported him, and his list of followers just kept growing and growing with each day that passed. He could easily get the support of the Vale if he tried hard enough.

The truth was, even Sandor suspected that Renly was going to win those elections.

Governor Baratheon spent the same time that Robb had talking about his policy and plans. He wanted to boost the commerce between Westeros and the rest of the world. Currently, Westeros mainly had commerce treaties with Essos, and most of the products that were bought in the country were made there itself; the states commercialized between each other. But what Renly wanted was to open the nation to the world. Some loved the idea and some hated it. In the city square, most seemed to be loving the idea at that moment, and Renly was dismissed with applause and cheering, just as Robb had, and with a brilliant smile of his face.

It was Joffrey's turn after that. He left his podium and walked to the one up front with a confident and even a bit of a smug smile of his face.

As much as Sandor wanted Joffrey to be ridiculed in front of the entire nation, he had to admit that the man knew how to speak in public and how to charm the multitude into listening to him.

Joff's policy was foreign. He paid special attention to the military, and he gave an interesting speech about it.

"Westeros has faced many times of war during its history," he was saying, his voice rumbling through the speakers. "And in those times of war, the country has been damaged. The reason is very simple; our army is not strong enough. It is not acceptable that every State has its own poorly trained army! We need to build a strong defense for our nation, and prepare the men to serve in a strong, unified military body that belongs to the whole country, not just the State that wants to use it!"

The response that he was getting was truly surprising, because the people were cheering their agreement in unison. Joffrey, like the other two candidates before him, had managed to be heard, and he had fooled everyone into believing that he cared for them, when in truth, all that he cared about was power.

Sandor wanted to laugh at all those thousands of bloody fools, but then he started getting a weird sensation, and he frowned. It was a sensation that he knew very well, and instinct that he had picked up during his time at war and during his time as a lifeguard...

There was danger somewhere around them. He could sense it.

He searched around carefully with his eyes. There was security in every corner, but the place was still not secure. The city square and the Sept of Baelor were surrounded by tall buildings, and in every one of them there were armed men prepared to take action if any harm were to come to the three candidates in their podiums, but it was still not enough. Sandor knew that there were always loopholes...

He started walking, and he looked at the three candidates. Robb and Renly seemed to be alright, and so was Joffrey, who was still talking in the central podium...

That was when Sandor saw it. The tiny red point that had just appeared, made by a laser, right in the middle of his forehead...

Without hesitating for even a second, Sandor ran up the steps in less than it took to blink and he threw himself at his boss, covering him with his huge body. It was what a bodyguard had to do.

" ** _Joffrey, get down!_** " he barked. His body crashed against the young Governor's and both of them fell crashing on the floor, to the utter confusion of all the people who were witnessing the scene.

A bullet flew right over them. It would have hit Joffrey right in the center of his forehead, sending his brains flying around, had it not been because Sandor threw him to the floor in time. And, because it hit nothing, the bullet continued it trajectory, coming diagonally from the left...

The stray bullet hit Governor Renly Baratheon right on his heart, and the man crashed down on the floor, dead. There was a hole on his impeccable black suit, and a red spot was beginning to stain the perfect white shirt underneath it. His eyes were surprised, wide open, and lifeless.

There was silence for a second. Then everybody started screaming.


	11. Lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was going to wait to post this a bit longer for a number of reasons, but in the end I wanted to post it now. Enjoy!

There was instant chaos in the city square. The thousands of people that were standing there, admiring their leaders just mere seconds ago, were suddenly screaming and running away in all directions, wanting a way out and pushing people down and stepping on each other in the process.

Sandor was still holding Joffrey down against the ground, protecting him with his body like a shield. The shooter, whoever the fuck it had been, could try to shoot again if he got a chance. When that didn't happen in the next three seconds, Sandor stood up as quickly as he could, dragging Joffrey up with him. Sandor put his back in the direction that the bullet had come from, and he put Joffrey right in front of him, still covering him like a shield. It was his job.

"Move!" he barked, knowing that he had to take the Governor away from that place right now, before it became impossible to get away or the shooter decided to give it another shot.

Governor Renly Baratheon's body was lying still, lifeless on the floor a few feet away. He was completely surrounded by a pool of thick, red blood. His lifeless eyes looked surprised; he didn't even know what had hit him. His face was still smiling, like he always had.

Governor Robb Stark had already been taken away by his own bodyguards, and all the Starks were gone, driving off to safety. As Sandor and Joffrey ran down the steps of the Sept of Baelor, the bodyguard could see that all the other bodyguards were hurrying to take all the families to safety as well, making them hurry inside the limos. Loras Tyrell, however, was refusing to leave. He screamed, mad with grief and shock, and tried to run up the steps in an attempt to get to his dead lover's side. Renly's bodyguard, a huge blonde woman, grabbed Loras and stopped him from running away, but the man was still struggling and screaming. He no longer cared if the whole world knew the truth about him and Renly, he just wanted to get to his side... But he couldn't. His sister Margaery was yelling his name from inside the limo to urge him to stop trying to get himself killed and go with the rest of the family, but he wasn't listening.

Sandor stopped looking at them; he had his own problems to solve. He had to take his boss to safety; after all, it was at Joffrey's head that the bullet was aimed, not at Renly's. The other bodyguards, Meryn and Boros, were waiting outside the limo for them, holding the door open.

"Is everyone else inside?!" Sandor asked, yelling so that he would be heard above all the screams that came from the panicked crowd. Boros nodded, and Sandor pushed Joffrey roughly inside the limo and jumped in after him. Meryn and Boros followed him, they closed the door, and the chauffeur started driving away as fast as he could down the street and away from that place that had just turned into hell.

Myrcella was sobbing on her seat, and hugged her brother Tommen tightly. They were both very scared; they had after all just seen their favorite and beloved uncle killed during a failed attempt to murder their own brother. Cersei was as white as milk, and she kept mumbling things under her breath. She was shaking, but then she hugged her older son, relieved that he was alive. Joffrey was also in shock and breathing hard. He looked infuriated; his face was red and the veins in his throat pulsed furiously, looking like they were about to explode...

"I want to know who it was..." He hissed after a few seconds. "I want to know who it was, and I want his head served to me on a silver platter!"

"Joffrey, calm down... You are safe now," his mother started saying, but it only made him angrier.

"I WON'T CALM DOWN! Someone tried to kill me, I want him dead!" He yelled. "I want them all dead! Who do they think they are, trying to kill _me_?! **_ME_**?!"

Myrcella shot him an accusatory glare.

"Don't talk to mom like that!" she exclaimed, in a sudden fit of bravery. "The police will find that person and deal with him like they're supposed to, not like you want! And they could have killed you if Sandor hadn't realized what was going on, you idiot!"

" ** _SHUT UP_**!"

Sandor took his eyes away from all of them. Everybody was hysterical, as was obvious, but he couldn't stand to be in a closed space with them right at that moment. He rubbed his eyes and then he blinked and looked around inside the limo, searching for the only person that he cared for at that moment. He wondered if the little bird was alright. He hadn't seen her yet, but he imagined that she must be scared to death just like everybody else was. Maybe she would be even mad with him because he saved her stupid boyfriend's ass. Sandor had to fight the urge to laugh under his breath when that thought passed through his mind. However, the urge to laugh left him once he searched through the interior of the limo; he didn't see the little pop star anywhere. He did a double take, just in case, but he hadn't seen anything wrong.

Sansa wasn't there.

"Where is Miss Stark?" He asked, maintaining the sudden fear away from his voice and trying for sound as neutral as possible.

Joffrey looked around the limo, realizing just then that his fiancée wasn't there. He hadn't given her a single thought until his bodyguard mentioned her, and that infuriated Sandor, though he didn't let it show. Then the young politician shrugged, and Sandor could have punched his fucking teeth in.

"You said that **_everyone_** was inside!" He yelled to Meryn and Boros. They pretended that they didn't know what he was talking about.

"She's with the Starks," Cersei said then. She wasn't hugging her eldest son anymore because he had pushed her away, so her hands were back to being a trembling mess.

"Are you sure of that?" Sandor asked, trying to feel a bit calmer, but he couldn't. For some unknown reason he felt like he was suffocating; never before had he ever felt like that in his life.

"Where else could she be?!" Cersei exclaimed, clearly having no idea what had happened with his future daughter-in-law, and clearly not caring.

" _Where could she-!_ She could be back in the city square, with the shooter and all those thousands of panicking people that could kill her!" he barked.

"She wasn't with us, she must have been with the Starks!" Cersei insisted. "She's not important right now! The target was my son, we need to take him away from here and into a safe place!"

"If they kill her, the Starks will have your head!" Sandor warned Joffrey, pouting a menacing finger at him. The young Governor wasn't listening and didn't care anyways, but he did shoot Sandor's menacing finger a disapproving glare.

"Why don't you call them?" Myrcella asked then, and they all looked at her. "The Starks, I mean."

 _Finally, someone with brains!_ Sandor thought.

" _How_? I doubt anyone here has Robb Stark's cell number?" He asked, but then to his surprise Myrcella reached inside her purse and fished her iPhone out of it. She dialed a number, and when she saw everyone's disconcerted eyes fixed upon her, she shrugged matter-of-factly. "I have Rickon Stark's number!"

Joffrey almost choked, while Cersei frowned while looking at her only daughter, clearly not happy.

" _Why_ do you have Rickon Stark's number, young lady?"

" _Ugh_ , Mom, I got it once while we were in Winterfell, gosh! I've known him for _years_..." She fell silent when the phone started ringing, waiting for the call to he answered. The seconds felt like hours to Sandor, who just wanted to snatch the phone away from Myrcella's hands and make the call himself, as if time would go faster. It seems like no one was going to pick up the call when suddenly Myrcella's eyes lighted up. "Rickon! It's me, Myrcella! ...Yes, we are all okay, but listen... Is your sister with you?"

A few seconds of silence, and then Myrcella looked at Joffrey and shook her head. Joffrey snorted, clearly immensely irritated by the entire situation, and Sandor almost whimpered. Sansa was not with the Starks. **_Where the fuck was she?!_**

He snatched the phone out of Myrcella's hands, ignoring her initial protest, and took it to his ear, the one that wasn't burned.

"Mr. Stark, I need to speak with your brother," he said without bothering to introduce himself. He was in no mood and had no fucking time for politeness. Rickon Stark didn't say a word before handing the phone over to his older brother, who answered the call with an altered and shaking voice. Before Governor Stark spoke, Sandor quickly told Tommen and Myrcella to call the Lannisters and the Tyrells to see if Sansa was with any of them.

" _Hello?_ " The voice of Robb Stark came to him from the other side of the line.

"Governor Stark?"

" _Who is this?"_

"This is Sandor Clegane, the bodyguard of Governor Baratheon... The one that is alive, that is," he said. "Is your sister Sansa with you and your family?"

Sandor knew that Myrcella had just said that Rickon Stark had confirmed that Sansa was not with them, but he had to be completely sure...

" _With us? She was supposed to be with you! We thought she was with you!"_

_Fuck!_

" _Where is my sister, Clegane?!"_ Robb Stark was shouting at the other end of the line, panicking. He was probably thinking the worse, just as Sandor was starting to do. He wasn't a man to easily lose his nerves, but he was feeling anxious indeed. When he didn't reply, Governor Stark shouted again: " _Where is she?! Is she not with Joffrey?! What has happened to my sister?!_ "

Sandor could hear the voices of the rest of the Stark family near the phone asking what was going on, what was happening with Sansa. He could understand their uneasiness, he was feeling almost the same; he took a deep breath to calm himself down, and then he spoke again.

"I'm going to find her."

Without waiting for a reply from Governor Stark, he hung up the phone and he threw it back to Myrcella. Tommen had called the Tyrells, and he said that Sansa wasn't with them. Cersei had called her father, and he had said that the singer wasn't with them either. That only meant one thing. Sansa was still in the Sept of Baelor, in the city square, alone and surrounded by all those thousands of panicked people, which could end being fatal.

" _Fuck!_ " Sandor cursed out loud, shouting and startling Cersei, Myrcella and Tommen, making them jump on their seats; Joffrey still didn't give a fuck about anything, so he didn't even flinch. Sandor looked to the front of the limo, to the driver: " ** _Stop the fucking car!_** "

"Clegane! You are in no position to give orders!" Cersei Lannister exclaimed, but he silenced her with a deadly glare.

" _Do you want to be in all the newspapers with the headline saying that you left Sansa Stark alone to die?!_ " he barked, playing with what he knew that would make the Lannister bitch agree to what he wanted. Cersei didn't want a scandal, and she didn't want a conflict with the Starks; she knew that she would have both of those if anything happened to the Stark girl under their protection. When Cersei didn't say anything again, Sandor barked the order again to the driver.

" ** _Now!_** " he added.

The chauffeur obeyed and stopped the car, allowing Sandor a few seconds to open the door and get out to the street. As soon as the door of the limo was closed again, the vehicle drove off, leaving him alone next to the road. He didn't linger there for a second longer and started running up the street, back towards the Sept of Baelor. It took him fifteen minutes to reach the city square, which was still crowded with the panicking multitude. They were all trying to run in all directions, creating a tangled mess of human bodies that blocked the streets. Not giving up by that sight that could appear terrifying to anyone else, Sandor entered the city square in front of the Sept of Baelor and moved against that giant mass formed by thousands of bodies with the forced to crush and suffocate hundreds of people.

He had no fucking idea of where to start looking. The first thing he had done was move as close as possible to the steps where he had last seen Sansa, but she wasn't there. She couldn't be inside the Sept either, because all the doors were completely sealed and no one was able to get in. There wasn't anyone on the steps either; the only things there were the four podiums and Renly's body, left abandoned. At some point, a photographer climbed the steps and started to get dozens of pictures with his camera of the chaos that was forming in there; he was probably thinking of all the money the newspapers would give him for those pictures, instead of focusing on running like the other people were.

Sandor tried to search for Sansa in between the crowd, but that was almost impossible. The black dress that she was wearing made it hard for her to stand out in the crowd, so Sandor could only hope to see her hair, with its uncommon color... He turned around in between all those people, trying to see Sansa somewhere, anywhere! But nothing, he couldn't find her...

" ** _Sansa!_** " he called her. His voice was silenced by the screams of the people around him, it would be a miracle if the girl managed to hear him, wherever she was! But calling her, shouting her name was one of the very few options that he had. " ** _SANSA!_** "

There was an entrance to a small street a few feet away. He moved in between all the people that pushed him and crashed against him, running like scared sheep away from a big bad wolf. Couldn't they see that there hadn't been more shootings?! The shooter had failed, Joffrey had run away, he was the target, and that was it! They would be safe, if only they were able to stay calm. Their own fear was what was going to get them killed!

" ** _SANSA!_** " he called when he was finally at the entrance of the narrow and somewhat dark street. He got no reply, as was expected, and there was no sign of Sansa being there. He turned around to look at the square again. The crowd was starting to slowly disappear, allowing a better look at the people in there, but the mess was still too big. They were moving in all directions, pushing and pulling and throwing each other to the ground in their desperation to get away from there. _Where were the fucking cops to keep order when they were needed?!_

He was about to dive back inside the crowd and risk being crushed by all those thousands of people in hopes of finding the Stark woman somewhere. He had to find Sansa as soon as possible and take her somewhere safe, if she hadn't been already crushed to death... He was going to head to the statue in the middle of the city square when suddenly he felt something vibrating inside his pocket. It was his fucking phone.

He immediately reached inside his pocket and took his phone out, because it could be important. Maybe someone had already found her, even though he didn't see how that was possible!

He frowned when he saw the number, for he did not recognize it. However, he picked up the call, still believing that it could be important.

"Hello?" he said. He thought that he could hear a faint voice, but the noise around him was too loud and did not let him hear. "Hello?!"

This time he could hear.

" _Sa-Sandor..._ "

His eyes opened wide with disbelief. _It was Sansa!_ It was the little bird called him! _She was alive!_

Never ever in his life had he ever been so happy and relieved to hear someone's voice over the phone.

"Sansa!" he exclaimed, overjoyed, thought his rough steel-on-stone voice didn't make him sound too positively excited. "Seven fucking buggering hells, girl _, where are you?!"_

He heard her sob over the phone, and all of a sudden he wasn't so relieved anymore. Fuck! Was she hurt? Had anyone done anything to her?

"Little bird, where are you? Tell me now and I will go and get you right now."

" _B-but you all... left..."_

"No, Sansa, I'm here. I'm here, I came back. Now, _where_ are you?"

She sobbed again and stayed silent for a few seconds before mumbling loud enough for him to hear:

" _I'm lost. I don't know where I am, I'm not in the square anymore, and I don't want to go back!"_

"No, little bird, you don't have to do that. Just tell me what you see around you, and I'll go and get you," he said, trying to calm her down. "Little bird, what do you see?"

There were another few seconds of silence before the little bird started telling him what she saw: there was a shop in front of her. She said that the name on the sign was Tobho Mott. That was all that Sandor needed to know precisely where she was, for he had been around there multiple times.

"Alright, Sansa. Listen to me. Stay there and don't move, I'm going to be there right now-"

He couldn't finish talking, because at that moment a group of people ran into him like animals on a stampede and crashed into him. Had it been only one person, it wouldn't have bothered Sandor, but _six_ fucking people crashed into him suddenly, desperately trying to get away from the city square the through that extremely narrow street. They threw him off his feet and to the floor with a grunt, and he accidentally dropped his phone. The group of people stumbled to the floor with him and looked at him scared of his size and his burns. He glared at them but paid them no further attention. They ran away as soon as they saw that they were not in trouble, and Sandor went to pick up his phone. He had lost the call with Sansa, but at least now he knew where she was. He didn't even have to cross the city square to go to another street to get to where she was; he just had to follow the street he was in already.

Sandor starting running up the narrow street and turned left when he reached the corner. The streets just seemed to narrow even more every time that he made a right or left turn, they became smaller and smaller as he entered the inner parts of the market zone of the city. It was a very old city, and the design of the zone was very antique and medieval. After a few more turns which led him farther away from the city square and closer to Tohbo Mott's shop. Soon, he arrived nearly breathless at the street where the shop was, where he was supposed to find Sansa waiting for him...

...But she wasn't there.

Sandor stopped dead in his track and stared for a second in disbelief at the empty spot in front of Tohbo Mott's shop. There was no one there, _why **wasn't** Sansa there?!_ She had told him over the phone that she was _there_ , he had told her to wait there for him, that he was on his way! She couldn't be inside the shop, because it was closed. And she couldn't have possibly tried to flee somewhere else, because she was lost and had no idea how to get anywhere from there...

...Unless she hadn't left... Maybe she had been taken away...

Right after that thought occurred to Sandor, he reached for his gun immediately and pulled it out from inside his jacket. He raised the weapon in front of him, prepared to shoot anybody if need be. If anyone had dared to take Sansa against her will, Sandor would put a bullet inside that pour soul's brain without even blinking.

He walked quickly towards the end of that short and narrow street, always holding his gun high in front of him, and keeping his eyes everywhere, alert to any single movement. He was ready to act quickly and shoot his gun if need be, if he found Sansa to be in any kind of danger he wouldn't hesitate, but he was wishing really hard that that didn't end up being necessary. He didn't want Sansa to see that, and he didn't want her to be hurt.

"Sansa?!" he called just as he reached the end of the street and turned right at the corner, with his gun still lifted in the air in front of him.

Just as he entered the new street, he heard a sob, and Sansa appeared running from behind another corner behind one of the stores. She didn't look hurt, but she was crying and her hair was a mess because of having been running in between the crushing crowd. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and she was terribly scared. Sandor saw the look of happiness and relief in her face when she saw him, and he himself felt all the tension leaving his chest after seeing that she was safe; however, right then Sansa saw the gun and it startled her. She gasped and took a step back. After realizing what had scared her, Sandor hurried to lower the weapon and he put it back inside his jacket. With the gun out of sight, Sansa looked incredibly happy and relieved all over again.

" _Sandor,_ " she whispered, and she ran towards him. Once he reached him, Sandor pulled her instinctively in a tight and protective embrace (he never ever hugged anyone, but he hadn't even been thinking, he just made the exception with Samsa for the second time that day) and Sansa put her arms around him and placed her head against his chest. She was shaking. " _You came back for me..._ "

"Aye, little bird, I wasn't going to leave you alone here," Sandor murmured. He was still holding her, but he looked around to check that there wasn't any danger anywhere near them. He didn't see anyone, so he relaxed. "I told you to wait for me right where you were. I thought somebody might have taken you!"

Sansa shook her head. She wasn't sobbing anymore, and she was shaking a little less. "I heard something on the phone and I thought something bad had happened to you. I-I got scared, I thought the crowd was coming o-or that the shooter had found you..."

"I'm alright little bird, nothing happened to me. And you? Are you alright?"

She nodded. Sandor put a finger under her chin and lifted her head to make her look at him; a part of him was furious with her for running away and not joining the Baratheons or her family in the limos, he was furious at her for putting her life at risk in such a stupid way. In the past, he might have yelled at her for that, for being stupid. However, now some newly found sense of tact inside of him told him that he shouldn't be angry with her or yell. Sansa was scared enough already without him barking at her face.

"Why did you run?" he asked.

"I..." Sansa struggled with the answer. She looked confused; maybe she didn't even know why she had run. She had just seen a person killed, and maybe that had been the first instinct to kick in: running for dear life. "I thought that they would go after the Starks... or that the shooter would try again. I was afraid to get in the car with Joffrey, I... I didn't want to die..."

Sandor raised his eyebrow and stared at her. Maybe she wasn't so stupid after all. She wanted to survive.

"Why didn't you go with the Starks then, if you were afraid they were going to attack Joffrey again?"

"Because... because maybe they would try to attack Robb as well," she mumbled, looking ashamed for having run. "And then as I was making up my mind everybody had just left and I had to run the other way."

"Well, you are alright now, little bird, you are alright," he said, rubbing her back in a comforting way.

"I'm so stupid..."

"No you're not," Sandor said. He had never been good at comforting people, nor had he ever cared to do such a thing, but he didn't want Sansa to feel bad about being scared.

He took his phone out of his pocket and called his partner, Boros. The phone ringed a few times before the other bodyguard picked up.

" _Clegane?_ "

"I found her," Sandor rasped. "Send someone to pick us up."

" _Alright, where?"_

Sandor gave Boros the address where he wanted a car to go a pick them up. It would be hard for a vehicle to go and pick them up in the place where they were because of the narrow streets and all the people blocking some of them, and Sandor wouldn't be caught dead returning to the city square. After giving Boros the address for a suitable place, he hung up and put the phone away again.

"Come on, little bird," he said, letting go of her and giving her a gentle push to get her going, "we have to walk a bit."

She just nodded and followed him through the streets. They had walked through a few of them when suddenly they walked into a street with a big black park parked at the side, apparently waiting for someone. Sansa didn't seem bothered by the presence of the car and was just going to keep walking, but Sandor put his arm in front of her to block her path and stopped her. Sansa looked up at him confused, and was about to ask him what was wrong when he pushed her behind the corner in which they were, putting them both out of the car's sight.

"Careful, now," he warned her, knowing that there was something odd about that car. Many people might have not noticed it, but a long career of being a bodyguard and a soldier provided him with very good instincts to perceive danger. After all, that was how he had saved Joffrey's ass earlier.

"What's wrong?" Sansa asked in a whisper, alarmed.

Sandor didn't answer. He peeked a little bit around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of the black SUV. It was still there, and though the windows were tinted he could see that there were people inside through the open door. There were maybe three men inside, he wasn't sure, and they were definitely waiting for something or someone.

"What do you see? What's happening?" Sansa kept asking, and he shushed her.

What he saw was that the men were dressed in black clothes, and they were wearing masks that covered their faces and had only holes for the eyes. And in the hands of one of them...

" _Oh shit_ ," Sandor cursed under his breath, and stopped peeking around the corner. He pressed his back against the wall, next to Sansa. She was worried and anxious; she wanted to know what was happening, feeling impatient with Sandor for not letting her move. She was also frightened because of the bodyguard's expression of worry.

"What?! Sandor, what's going on? Who are they?"

" _Sshh!_ They're the shooters."

Sansa's eyes grew wide as plates when she heard him say that. " ** _What?!_** H-how do you know?!"

"Believe me, I know! _Now shut up before you get us killed!"_

He took his gun out again. They had to get away from there, and he couldn't stay unarmed. Those people, whoever the fuck they were, had tried to kill Joffrey... If they discovered them there, those people might as well try to kill them both. Sandor did not want to risk it.

He tried to urge Sansa to start walking back the way they had come, when suddenly they heard some fast strides approaching. They turned around to look at the street in which the car was again, and they saw a person (a woman, judging by the size and figure,) running from the left end of the street towards the car, carrying a big rifle on her hands. Sandor cursed under his breath again and pushed Sansa to hide her in the shadows of the street they were in and then he covered her with his own body, shielding her. He hoped that the woman would just run past the entrance of the street they were in and not notice them, and then they would be safe.

They were lucky, for the woman did just that. She passed in front of the entrance of the street Sandor and Sansa were hiding in, and she reached the car. She threw the rifle to one of the men inside the car, and then she turned around to look down the street and make sure that nobody had followed her. Even through she was also wearing a mask, Sanor could tell that she looked extremely pissed off, and he could perfectly imagine why- _he_ had screwed up her plans.

The woman (who was definitely the shooter from the roof, the one that had actually pulled the trigger and accidentally killed Governor Renly Baratheon) apparently believed that there was no one near her to see her, took off the mask that hid her face. She was very young, she must have been even younger than Sansa, though not much. She had short brown her, cut a little above her chin, and she had angry grey eyes. Sandor had never seen such angry eyes in a woman so young; those eyes radiated hate and bitterness, but also sadness and sorrow. He knew that look perfectly well; those eyes had a dark hunger for revenge.

Sandor heard Sansa gasping in shock. Sandor took a step back to take them both farther away from the car's and the woman's sight. The shooter climbed inside the SUV, shut the door close, and the car immediately left.

Sandor took a step forward then and stopped shielding Sansa's body. He looked at her to see if she was ok, and he frowned, confused, when he saw how pale the girl had suddenly become. There was a look of horror and shock in her blue eyes, still fixed on the place where the car and the woman had been moments ago.

"Little bird?"

After a few seconds, she muttered with disbelief: " _Arya…?"_

Sandor frowned even more, not understanding what was happening.

"What?"

Sansa tore her eyes away from the now empty spot and she stared into Sandor's eyes. He still see her shock and horror. Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with unshed tears when she said,

"That was my sister!"


	12. Truth Unveiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is chapter 12, updated very early because I promised some people that I would have it up yesterday!
> 
> This chapter is still not beta'd, and though I checked, some monstrosities created by my Autocorrect might have escaped my eyes... Please forgive me if that is so :P
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Sandor had had some difficulty trying to make Sansa move away from that street after the SUV left. The pop star was more than convinced that the young woman that they had seen was her younger sister Arya. Sandor tried to convince her of the contrary, he told her that he was imagining stuff because she was still in shock. Sansa had not given up on her conviction that that had been her sister, but in the end the bodyguard had managed to make her resume walking away from that place, and he had successfully delivered her back to the Red Keep safe and sound.

Everyone had reunited in the Red Keep: Baratheons, Lannisters, Tyrells and Starks. There was all the security that there could fit in that place and more; it was like an unyielding stronghold prepared for war. When Sandor and Sansa arrived in the car that had been sent to pick them up, half a dozen of security people fell in them as soon as they stepped out of the vehicle, checking everywhere for any signs of danger that might be accompanying any of them. Sandor snarled at the guards and made his way to the interior of the Red Keep, dragging Sansa behind him.

As soon as they saw her, her family cried out loud in joy and ran towards her, surrounding her in a loving embrace. Sandor could see that they had really been worried for her, even though their initial priority had been to keep Governor Stark safe, not Sansa. Joffrey was with the Baratheons and the Lannisters in the large living room. When he heard that his bodyguard had returned with his fiancée, he immediately played the part of the worried boyfriend and hurried up to take Sansa into his arms. He played the part almost to perfection, hugging her and kissing her and calling her "my love" and "my lady" and checking if she was alright. Sansa was too shocked, and the only way in which she was able to react was by becoming stiff, and she was only able to mumble incoherently. Her family took it like a sign that she was too relieved to see her fiancé again and could not express her happiness accurately at that moment. When he saw all that pitiful mummery, Sandor rolled his eyes and grunted in disgust, taking his eyes away from the couple and the girl's family. Such hypocrisy and falseness made him sick to his stomach.

Not once did he mention what he and Sansa had seen in the streets while they were running away from the crowd. He ought to have told his boss and his family that they had found the shooters, that they had left in a black SUV and that the person that had risen all that hell was a young woman. But he didn't. Sansa had begged him over and over, before getting to the car that took them to the Red Keep, not to say anything to anyone. He had made him promise her, and so he had sworn not to say a word. Even though he didn't believe at first that what Sansa was saying was true, he starting doubting if maybe the singer was right after all. Maybe she hadn't imagined it, and the shooter was in fact her younger sister.

Sandor dreaded what would happen if that was the truth, and he dreaded the even bigger hell that would break loose if it was discovered. Because if Sansa was right, then Arya Stark had murdered Renly Baratheon.

Well, shit. As if there weren't enough complications already in that fucking house!

Three days later was the funeral of Governor Renly Baratheon. The funeral was held in the Stormlands, in the State of Stormlands, where he had been born and he had lived his whole life. It was impossible to say how many people attended the funeral. Renly was loved by many people, having managed to charm almost everyone that he had met in his life, and also his political career made him quite popular. All kinds of people attended his funeral: family, friends, celebrities, politicians, wealthy people that he had surrounded himself with... There were even common people attending his funeral, weeping and sobbing while the priest said some words that some people paid attention to and others didn't.

Sandor had never cared much about Renly Baratheon, always considering him to be a noisy spoiled brat politician. However, he stood still with respect, acknowledging that the deceased deserved at least that. He observed quietly the people that surrounded him, moving only his eyes around with vague curiosity. The first person that he saw was, of course, Joffrey, because he was standing right in front of his bodyguard. The young Governor didn't want to be in that place, and it was obvious: he was bored, and he looked bored. He didn't care about his uncle. He didn't care that Renly had died because Joffrey had been spared his own life. That could have been him inside that coffin instead of his uncle, if Sandor had not done his job properly and reacted in time! But Joffrey didn't care, he was glad that it was his uncle that had died and not him, and he didn't feel any remorse for feeling that way. Sandor had always known that there was something fucked up with Joffrey, he had had many chances to know that over the course of 23 years spent at the young man's side, but lately Sandor had been seeing a darker side of Joffrey that made him feel uneasy. He was finding Joffrey to be too cold, too cruel as of late. Sandor didn't think that was a good sign.

At Joffrey's side was his family. His siblings Myrcella and Tommen sobbed quietly, mourning the loss of their uncle. Their mother Cersei looked like she didn't give a damn about Renly, though she tried to dissimilar it by looking down at her feet and hiding her face behind a huge black hat with flowers in it. The rest of the Lannisters stood by her side in silence. At the other side of the coffin, right in front of the Lannisters and Baratheons, were standing the Tyrells. Margaery was clearly very saddened by the death of her husband. She didn't love him as her husband, but she had cared for him as a dear friend. At her side was standing her brother Loras, sobbing quietly and trying not to fall apart in front of everybody. Sandor paid the Tyrell family no longer attention and drifted it instead towards where the Starks where standing… with Sansa.

He was surprised when he caught the young woman's eyes staring right at him. He waited, guessing that she would quickly drift her eyes somewhere else at any second, but she held his gaze. He almost frowned, not knowing why she was looking at him that way… No one had ever looked at him like that. Her blue eyes had the most intense look that he had ever seen on her. He could see a few tears in her eyes, shed in pity for the Governor's death... But behind those polite tears, there was something else, a fire that he could not quite identify and that was boring into his very soul.

He felt a lump in his throat, and he wanted to look away, but he felt bewitched by those deep blue eyes. He always stared at her when she didn't see him, when she didn't notice his attention, but never before had he dared to hold her gaze in a way that felt so... so awkward, and at the same time intimate. He knew damn well that many would even say inappropriate, but he didn't give a fuck about those things. So he stared back for a long time, and Sansa's eyes kept lingering on him the whole time. It was a silent challenge, waiting, daring each other to look away first, but none of them did. There was something in the air between them, some strange energy that made Sandor feel like there was a rope pulling him towards the auburn-haired beauty. He had indeed felt something before, since the first time that he saw her on that fucking stage with her prefect dress and her perfect face and her perfect voice, but never before had he felt that strange sensation so strongly. It intrigued him, and it burned at his insides. It wasn't a painful burning, like the ones he had suffered as a child, but a pleasant burning...

He was slowly identifying some of the feelings that were forming that mess inside his chest. Longing, and rage... because she was there. Standing right in front of him, and yet so far away, unreachable.

He suddenly came to his senses and shook his head slightly, decomposing himself. In doing so, he was the first one of them to stare away. His eyes stared a moment to the grass beneath his feet before he raised them again, taking a peek at Sansa... but she had stared away as well after him, and she wasn't going to look at him again.

Good. He didn't need anyone in that fucking funeral noticing how Joffrey's bodyguard lustfully stared at the Governor's fiancée...

 _Buggering hells, dog, put your shit together,_  he scolded himself as he returned his attention to the funeral.

He was starting to worry himself. Yes, he had always felt somewhat attracted to Sansa, even though at first he hadn't missed an opportunity to mock or insult her. Yes, he had imagined her in sexy black lace underwear when she had her back turned to him, giving him full view of that glorious round little butt of hers. Yes, he thought he was the most fucking beautiful woman in the whole fucking world!

But ever since he bought that thrice-damned McDonalds for her, something had changed. He had started caring for real. It had been that moment when he had seen in her a normal young woman who just wanted to get away and couldn't. Ever since he had helped with that improvised ice pack in the kitchen, and she had claimed to be able to see beyond him, to see that he was a good person underneath a tough guy facade... Ever since he helped her find that goddamn ring so that she wouldn't get in trouble, and she had hugged him like he had just saved the world...

...Ever since he had felt  ** _terrified_**  when he saw that they had left her behind with the crowd, and he had desperately run to find her... Ever since she called him, out of all people she could have called, for help...

Ever since all that Sandor should have known that he had fallen under the girl's spell, and there was no going back.

Once he realized that, while standing there in the middle of all those people in the funeral, he cursed mentally all the things that came to mind. How could he have let that happen? How could he have been such a fool?! Stupid, stupid, stupid dog!

 _She's a Stark, for fuck's sake! Joffrey's fiancée. Fucking idiot,_  he grunted in his mind.  _Stop thinking of her. Do not stare at her! Just. Don't._

It took him a lot of effort not to do so, but he succeeded. For the rest of the duration of the funeral, he stayed out, looking only at the coffin and pretending to listen to the priest's words, not moving an inch. But the whole time, the only thing that was in his mind was that he was a fool. He had spent his whole life smelling danger, fighting it, avoiding it... and he hadn't been able to see the worst one until it was already too late.

Once the coffin had already been put two meters underground, the people started leaving after leaving hundreds of flowers around the grave. The Baratheons and the Tyrells stayed there, and people approached them to give them their condolences before leaving. Sandor stood behind Joffrey while he saw how everybody approached him and his family to say how sorry they were for his uncle's passing. The Starks were the first, and then some Lannisters, and then came other important families and politicians and some of Renly's friends. Suddenly, Sandor heard Cersei snorting indignantly.

"What is he doing here?" she hissed to her eldest son.

Sandor looked towards where the woman was looking and saw Gendry Baratheon talking to Margaery Tyrell. Gendry was a son born from one of Robert Baratheon's relationships previous to his marriage. he looked just like his father when he was young, tall and handsome and broad. He hadn't followed his family's footsteps in politics, and made his living as the CEO of a successful trading company. He was older than Joffrey, being 29 years old, and the contrast between him and his siblings was quite noticeable, as they all looked more Lannister than Baratheon. Cersei had always hated him ever since she married the boy's father, because he looked more like Robert than her own children did. It also didn't help how fond the former President had been of the boy. Out of all his children (both Cersei's children and the others he had had before his marriage), Gendry had probably been his favorite. Sandor had taken care of him sometimes when he was a kid and lived in the Red Keep, and he knew that the young man was polite and kind and didn't like to stick his nose in other people's business. He was quiet and responsible, and his siblings loved him.

Joffrey looked at his half-brother and shrugged.

"Renly was his uncle too," he answered to his mother's question.

Joffrey hadn't had the perfect relationship with Gendry as a child, not had he had a bad relationship with him. It was just quite indifferent, same as the relationships he had with his other siblings. He just didn't care, and as long as Gendry didn't mess with what Joffrey believed was his right as Robert's older legitimate son, he was okay with having an older brother. Sandor had seen them play sometimes when they were children, though now they barely even talked or saw each other.

"Yes, well..." Cersei hissed, clenching her jaw. "As long as he came alone and didn't bring with him any of the other ones, I suppose this visit isn't completely terrible."

Gendry left the Tyrells and walked towards the Baratheon/Lannisters. As soon as they saw him, Myrcella and Tommen jumped to hug him, happy to finally see their older brother again. He hugged each one of them with an arm at the same time and smiled, happy to be reunited with his siblings too. He talked with them for a little bit and then he walked over where Joffrey and Cersei were standing. Cersei didn't stop grimacing; she never made any attempt to hide with dislike for her late husband's extended family. Gendry ignored her disgusted expression and saluted her with a polite nod of his head, and then he centered his attention on Joffrey, who faked smiled as well as always. He had an impression to give to the crowd surrounding them at all angles.

"Joffrey," Gendry greeted him with a deep voice and a serene look in his eyes.

"Brother," Joffrey greeted. "I'm glad that you could make it here today."

"I couldn't miss the funeral. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to give me your condolences. You are part of the family and you must be going through the same hard times as all of us are," Joffrey said, still keeping up his act. Sandor knew that Gendry knew better, but the young man didn't say anything.

After saying excusing himself with a slight nod of his head, Gendry moved on to talk to other members of the family. He didn't even attempt to go near the other Lannisters, because he didn't want to talk to Governor Tywin Lannister (who disliked him just as much as Cersei did) and instead chose to approach his uncle Stannis and his cousin Shireen. After saying something to them that Sandor couldn't hear, Gendry walked toward the Starks.

Sansa was still with the Starks, and Sandor observed as Gendry approached her and, after exchanging a few words, they both hugged fondly. Sandor raised an eyebrow at that; he hadn't known that Sansa and Gendry were so close, and he discretely looked at Joffrey to see his reaction. Joffrey was also closely watching his fiancée and his half-brother with narrowed eyes and his arms crossed over his chest. He clearly didn't like seeing Sansa being so friendly with the dark-haired man, but then again, Joffrey didn't like seeing Sansa with anybody. Not even with her mother and her brothers.

Sansa and Gendry stopped embracing each other, and started engaging in conversation. From where they were standing, Sandor couldn't hear what they were saying, nor did he care. However, Joffrey did have some curiosity. When he stopped receiving everyone's condolences he turned around and faced his bodyguard with a severe expression in his face.

"Follow her around until everybody is gone and she returns back to the house," he ordered Sandor in a low voice, not wanting anyone to hear him, "and then you come to meet me immediately. Understood?"

Sandor wanted to protest, but he resisted the urged and nodded. With no as much as a good bye, Joffrey left, walking towards the exit of the graveyard followed by his family. Once he was left alone, Sandor got distracted for a few seconds... until he sensed a presence next to him, and turned his face to find Gendry Baratheon staring at him with a thin smile in his face. However, he seemed a little upset, and he was as pale as a ghost, when mere moments ago he had been fine.

"Hello, Sandor," the young man said, offering his hand to Sandor. The bodyguard extended his own hand and shook it.

"Gendry. Long time no see."

"I know, I've been real busy in the last few years, I didn't really have time to stop by the Red Keep as I used to do before," Gendry commented, shrugging. He looked at Sandor for a few seconds in silence until he finally said. "Thank you. For saving my brother, I mean."

"Huh. I didn't think you cared much about him."

"Well, he's an asshole," Gendry admitted, and shrugged for the second time, "but he's still family. So yeah, thank you."

"You are welcome. I'm sorry about your uncle, though."

"Yeah... Well, these things happen, don't they? The same happened with my old man. At least uncle Renly passed away smiling like he always did."

There was an awkward silence after that, in which Gendry didn't seem able to come up with anything else to say, and Sandor didn't want to say anything else. Sensing that the conversation had come to an end, Gendry patted Sandor in the shoulder and walked away. Sandor only had a few seconds alone until he sensed a second presence at his side, but he almost smiled when he saw that it was Sansa. However, his expression remained bored and a bit harsh, as always.

"Hey," she said, shyly.

"Hi," he said. Then he pointed towards Gendry with a quick move of his head. "What did you say to him? He was pale as a dead man after talking to you."

Sansa's expression became worried and she bit her bottom lip (which instantly made Sandor feel like he was going crazy, which had never happened to him before).

"I told him I saw Arya..."

Sandor immediately forgot all about how sexy he thought that Sansa was when she bit her lower lip, and stared at her with eyes as big and round as places.

"You did what?!" he hissed. What was she, stupid?! "Why did you do that?!"

"Because Gendry is Arya's boyfriend! ...Or was, before she disappeared. Anyways, he had a right to know. He was desperate after she banished in thin air, and he has been looking for her everywhere. He deserved to know."

"But it  _wasn't_  your sister!" he hissed, mad at her for bing so indiscreet.

Sansa looked defiantly at him and reached for her purse. She searched for something inside of it and fished out her iPhone, unlocking it and looking for something in it, a picture. After she found it, she handed it over to the bodyguard, who took the iPhone and looked at the screen with little interest, until that changed when he realized that the face making a goofy expression to the camera was the fucking shooter that they had seen in that back street. Sansa had been right! Arya Stark was the shooter...

_Holy fuck!_

Awestruck, he returned the iPhone to Sansa, not really knowing what to say. That had been completely unexpected, and he didn't know whether to say something good or bad about it.

"Did you tell him everything?" He asked then, wanting to know how much Sansa had revealed to Gendry. If he knew that Arya Stark had been the shooter and he told someone else, shit would start to go down like a demolished skyscraper. For his relief, Sansa shook her head.

"No, of course not! How could I tell him that the woman he loves killed his favorite uncle while trying to assassinate his brother?! I just told him that I saw her, I didn't specify how or when or where."

"Good," Sandor rasped. "Well... your sister is a damn good shot," he commented then. Sansa sighed and then she threw her phone inside her purse again. Now that he took a good and close look at her, Sandor noticed that the girl looked exhausted and nervous and scared. She had damn good reasons to be feeling so, given what her sister had done.

"Yeah... A very good shot," she nodded."She almost blowed my fiancé's brains out."

"Would that have been a good thing or a bad thing?"

"That's a completely inappropriate question!" Sansa exclaimed, pretending to be horrified, and Sandor almost laughed.

"Come on, little bird. We both know that you have an answer for it. Admit it, you wish that I hadn't saved Joffrey's ass. Right now you would be free of him, and your brother could have a better chance of becoming President. Maybe Renly would have had a little accident later on, perhaps..."

"Arya has her perfectly good reasons to want Joffrey dead," Sansa blurted out before she could stop herself from saying those words. She realized that what she had just said could get her in trouble... but she trusted Sandor. She knew, after all the time that she had spent with him and knowing how he felt about Joffrey, that he wouldn't do anything to get her in trouble. She took a deep breath before adding: "But I can't tell you those reasons. If I do, you won't believe me, and if you do, Joffrey will kill me. He would kill me even if you didn't believe me..."

"Why?" Sandor asked, not liking the turn that the conversation was taking. He wanted to know, he wanted Sansa to finally tell him what was wrong... Because he knew that whatever it was, it was something that was really,  _really, **really**_  messed up, and it infuriated him to not be able to figure it out...

Sansa shook her head, unable to say anything else. The bodyguard could see in her eyes how scared she was.

"I can't, it's just... Please, I have to go. It's been a very tiring day."

She walked past him and walked away in the direction in which everyone else had left, and Sandor just stood there still as a statue, looking at her until she disappeared. Even then, when she was no longer in sight, he stood there watching in that direction, frowning, thinking about what she had said moments ago. Something was not right, and the wheels inside Sandor's mind started turning, slowly putting small pieces of information together... It all felt like a puzzle, and he really wanted to solve it. He wanted to know what was wrong in that picture, what Sansa had meant with her statements all along, what it was that he couldn't see...

He remembered that Sandor wanted to see him as soon as Sansa left to go back to the house in which they were staying while they were in Storm's End, and he started walking towards the exit of the cemetery, but hie didn't stop thinking about that matter for a second.

He knew that to figure out what was happening he needed to revise what he knew already.

What did he know? He knew that Sansa was terrified of Joffrey. Not scared, terrified, even though he was her fiancé and should not be feeling like that, it wasn't normal. Sandor wasn't stupid enough to think that what she was scared of was of beatings, he had seen her after Joffrey slapped her in a rage fit, and she didn't panic in those occasions like she did whenever Sandor asked her what was really wrong. No, the beatings where the consequence of the reason why Sansa was afraid of Joffrey, not the cause. He also knew, after what had happened the other day with Arya Stark and the shooting and what Sansa had just hinted before, that it was the same reason why the younger Stark wanted to kill Joffrey, or at least there was a link between both women's reasons.

What else did he know? He knew that Sansa was scared enough that she didn't even dare to break her engagement to the Governor. Sandor wasn't fooled anymore by the thought that she was some kind of gold-digger. Then, he also remembered the look on Arya Stark's eyes... It was a look that he recognized perfectly, thirsty for revenge. But revenge for what? It couldn't be for her sister, because as far as Sandor knew, Arya had disappeared before Joffrey started hitting Sansa, because that had been...

Sandor froze suddenly, as shock hit him once he was finally able to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He felt like a lightbulb had just been lit over his head in the air.

Everything had started after Sansa's father had died. She herself told him once that that was when Joffrey started hitting her. That was when Arya had disappeared. And now she came back, after all that time, just to try and kill Joffrey in front of thousands of people? It all made sense now.

Governor Joffrey Baratheon had ordered the death of Vice President Eddard Stark.

"Oh shit..." Sandor muttered under his breath and shaking his head. Now that he knew the truth behind everything, he started worrying about the kind of mess that he was willingly stepping into by sticking his nose inside other people's business.

He knew that he could get in a hell of a lot of trouble, but he didn't want to back off now. Not now that he knew everything and that he knew that he felt what he felt for Sansa. He couldn't just turn her back to her.

Now he had to go and meet Joffrey to see what the little shit wanted, and he had to try and confirm if his theory was true. And then, if he could, he would try to find a way to help Sansa, if it was possible...

He pretty much doubted it.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" He asked Joffrey when he closed the door behind him after entering the office.

His boss was sitting on a comfortable desk, behind a mahogany desk. He was looking through the big window with views to the coast, and he played distractingly with a pen moving it between his fingers. When Sandor entered the office and spoke, Joffrey looked at him and nodded. He signaled him to come closer, and Sandor did that but he didn't sit down. Joffrey didn't offer him to take a seat anyways.

"Did you do what I told you?" Joffrey asked with his severe and arrogant voice, as usual.

Sandor nodded. "Aye. I didn't leave her until she came back to the house."

"Good. Did you hear anything interesting?"

"No," he lied. "She was just consoling your brother, that was all."

"Alright then..."

"Is there anything else you needed, sir?" Sandor asked, hating to have to speak in that polite way when he was on the job, and he hated it even more now after he had starting to have his suspicions. He couldn't wait to be able to confirm them.

"Actually, yes. Clegane, do you know how the investigation is going? About the shooting, I mean."

"I spoke with the detectives in the morning. They don't have anything yet. Whoever it was was very careful."

He could see that Joffrey was infuriated with the news. The young Governor paws his fist around the pen that he was holding with such strength that his knuckles turned white and the pen almost broke. Sandor had to stop himself from smirking seeing his boss so angry.

"Those imbeciles... They are good for nothing!" Joffrey snapped.

"May I ask something, sir?"

"Go ahead, dog," Joffrey said, turning his attentions briefly to some papers that were laying on the wood desk.

"Do you have any enemies?"

Joffrey's face shot back up as soon as the bodyguard asked that question, and he frowned, eyeing Sandor suspiciously.

"You'll have to be more specific, Clegane..."

Sandor cleared his throat, searching for the way to subtly ask the questions that he wanted to ask. "Have you done anything lately that might want to make something strangle you with your own guts?"

Joffrey grinned. Sandor didn't like that, it was bad news. It meant yes, he knew Joffrey all too well...

"Are you implying something, Clegane?"

"I've known you since you were a bawling hair ball. I've taken care you you since then, and I know that when you want things, you take them."

Joffrey dropped the pen and laid back comfortable on the leather chair, looking at Sandor with growing interest and amusement.

"Really? And what things do I take?"

"We both know that your favorite you is power. And taking power means crossing people... People who might later want to put your ass on a stick and roast you on a barbecue."

Joffrey threw his head back and laughed long and laughed, amused by his bodyguard' words. He didn't suspect a thing, because he was too stupid to actually think that Sandor might know something, and Sandor was putting it as if he was only pronouncing mere theories. In fact, they were still theories... He just needed to confirm them.

Finally, Joffrey stopped laughing and nodded, throwing his hands in the air.

"Guilty!" he exclaimed, like an amused kid laying a game. "I might have.. moved some strings, from here to there, from there to here... And some of those string I've pulled, and others I've cut..."

The way in which his green eyes shine maliciously as soon as he said those words dissipated all doubts for Sandor. Bingo. He was right. Governor Joffrey Baratheon had been behind the death of Sansa's father. That was why Arya Stark had tried to kill him.

Sandor was starting to feel really sorry for Sansa, and then Joffrey pulled him out of his thoughts, mentioning precisely Sansa's name.

"I need you to do something for me," Joffrey said, forgetting about what they had been talking mere seconds ago. "I want you to take my fiancée and take her away from here. The Starks are going to return to King's Landing for some time, and I don't want her spending more time near them. I want her away until they return to their filthy North."

"Where should I take her?"

"I don't care, wherever the hell you want. Pick one of my other residences and just take her there until I tell you to take her back."

"Isn't her family going to suspect anything?"

"I'll tell her that she's nervous and needs some vacations. They will believe it. Now leave me alone and go to make any arrangements that you need, I want her gone tomorrow morning."

He dismissed Sandor just like that, and the bodyguard bowed his head and turned around to leave.

His mind was an ocean of mixed thoughts at that moment. He didn't know what to make of everything that he had learned that day, it was all just fucking crazy.

One thing he knew, though. He was going to make sure that Sansa had a good time away from her shit fiancé, the girl deserved as much, and it was the least that he could do, to make sure she was alright at least for a little while.

He already knew where he was going to take her.


	13. Peeking Through the Window.

"Wow," Sansa sighed as soon as she stepped out of the limo that had taken her from the airport to the mansion, "this place is beautiful!"

A light breeze started blowing, and Sansa pressed her hand against the top of her huge sun hat so that it wouldn't be blown off her head. She walked away from the limo, looking wide-eyed at the beautiful mansion in front of her and it's spectacular surroundings. Following Joffrey's instructions, Sandor had taken her on a trip to the place he himself had chosen: Sapphire Isle. He had made that decision because it was a quiet place, a bit isolated and very beautiful. Judging by Sansa's delighted expression, he had made the right choice.

The mansion was located near the beach, with perfect views to the Narrow Sea. It was of a light creamy color; it had only two floors, but it was immense, covering a lot of terrain. Sansa climbed the three low steps that led to the main entrance of the mansion, which was guarded by four iconic columns that held a balcony over them. The door was unlocked, and so Sansa entered the mansion without difficulty. Once Sandor saw her entering the place, he picked up her luggage from inside the limo and carried it with him; he had expected Sansa to take lots of heavy luggage with her, because it was what he thought that women like her did whenever they travelled. However, once she learned they were going to a beach house because Joffrey wanted her to " _have some rest"_ , she had only packed two small bags, one with normal clothes and the other one with beach clothes. Sandor was grateful for that, because he didn't feel like carrying around all her stuff.

He entered the mansion behind Sansa, locked the door, and took a look around. He had been there a few times, many years ago, and he had almost forgotten what the place looked like. It was more modern that all the other mansions in which his bosses and their friends had always lived in, which were over the top and ancient, from many, many, many centuries ago. The mansion in Tarth (the island to which he had taken Sansa) was more modern, but was still classic, having none of that bullshit that modern mansions had and that Sandor found incredibly ugly. The main hall was made almost entirely of white marble, which made the place seem bigger and luminous and spacious and clean. It had two staircases at the sides, and they joined at the top, where the hallway that led to other rooms was. Sandor's eyes followed Sansa as she walked around the main hall, checking every piece of furniture, smiling at the mirrors and curiously eyeing the decorations. After she had taken a good look at everything, apparently liking what she had seen, she walked towards the window doors that led to the backyard of the mansion, opened one of them, and walked out to explore. Again, Sandor followed her like a lost puppy, not sure of what else to do if not. He just left her luggage on the floor and walked quietly behind her, observing her as she explored the place. There wasn't a proper garden in the backyard, but there was an enormous pool with perfect views to the beach and the sea. Sansa gasped with surprise and delight, and even Sandor had to admit that the views were amazing. The water surrounding the island was the brightest, deepest, most stunning blue that he had ever seen, like the color of a sapphire. No wonder Tarth was referred to as the Sapphire Isle!

"Oh, Sandor!" the young woman sighed, not taking her eyes off the sea. "This is really beautiful!"

"You already said that before," he rasped, but he couldn't hide a little smile from appearing in the corner of his mouth. It twisted and pulled at his scars in the creepiest and most gruesome way, but he didn't mind that much at that time, and Sansa didn't seem to mind either when she finally turned around and looked at him.

He was amazed when he saw her face. It looked livelier, her expression was more cheerful, her smile was wider than the fake one that she had had back with the Baratheons… And her eyes at that moment were more stunning than the waters surrounding the island; their color made the Sapphire Isle poor and lifeless in comparison to it. He had to make an effort not to gape like an idiot while he looked at her.

"Did you really choose this place?" she asked. The breeze started blowing again, and she held her sun hat like she did before so that it wouldn't fly away. Sandor narrowed his eyes and shrugged.

"I don't know. I figured that you would like it here more than some other buggering mansion in the inland."

"Well, you were right!"

"I can see that."

He was about to turn around to go inside the mansion again, but then Sansa's voice stopped him. She only managed to mutter the beginning of a question, but then she fell silent and lowered her eyes, hesitating whether if she should speak or not. Sandor stood there, patiently waiting for her to finish the question that she seemed to want to ask. Finally, Sansa nervously lifted her gaze to meet his and tried again:

"Can I take a swim?" she asked shyly, reminding Sandor of the first time that he had met her, and how she wasn't even able to talk to him properly at first. It was like she had two totally different personalities, one strong and confident, and the other shy and hesitant and scared. "In the pool, I mean."

 _Why is she even asking me this question?,_ Sandor wondered, frowning, feeling really confused. She didn't have to ask him for fucking permission to go for a swim; she was the boss now! And he was just a bodyguard assigned to take care of her, for fucks sake!

"Of course you can," he answered, a bit annoyingly and perhaps harsh. She noticed the confusion in his voice, and she hurried to explain:

"It's just that… Joffrey never lets me do anything without asking him for permission first," she murmured, lowering her gaze with shame.

That statement made Sandor frown even more, but not because of frustration at her; he was annoyed with Joffrey. He was mad because of the way that he treated Sansa like an object of his possession, to the point where the poor girl couldn't even enjoy herself a bit!

He took some steps towards her, gently took her chin with his fingers, and carefully raised her head so that she would stare at him in the eyes.

"Listen to me, little bird. Joffrey isn't here. He is very far away, and he cannot see you now. You can do whatever the fuck you want. You can swim in the pool, sleep 'till noon, and throw the entire fucking house out of the window if you please," he said, trying to sound as serious as humanly possible. "Understood?"

She nodded.

"Yes…"

"Good. The only thing that I'm going to ask you to do is not to leave the mansion. I can't allow you to do that; it's the only thing. I don't want to get in trouble."

"I understand," she said, smiling again.

"Alright… Now go and get changed, I suppose you are not going to jump into the pool with your pretty dress still on," he said, eyeing the short violet dress that she had worn for the trip. It was cut just above her knees, and it hugged her slim waist perfectly. And the cleavage... well, it wasn't giving him any good ideas.

Noticing that his mind had started wandering around places that it really shouldn't go to, he shook his head and grunted with frustration (startling Sansa in the process) and he turned around to leave. He reentered the mansion and picked up the girl's luggage again. He climbed the staircase up to the second floor and walked towards what was to be Sansa's room during their stay in that place. It was the master bedroom, the biggest and most central one. It had it's own balcony, and the views were even more amazing than they were from the pool. It felt like they were right above the sea.

He placed the luggage on the bed, so that Sansa wouldn't have to pick it up by herself to be able to take out her clothes more comfortably. After he did that he turned around and found her staring at him standing in the doorframe. He stared back at her in silence, unsure of what to do or say at the moment.

 _Seven fucking hells, dog, you are getting stupider every day that passes_ , a voice in the back of his mind scolded him.

"Well, I'm going to change," Sansa suddenly blurted out, breaking the awkward silence. She nervously pointed towards her luggage on the bed and smiled a bit, and Sandor stepped away from it. He rubbed his hands together and then he rubbed them against his pants at the sides of his thighs. He hated that sensation that he had just acquired all of a sudden of not being able to keep his hands quiet, but not knowing what to do with them!

"Yeah, I'll let you do that... Alone," he said as he mentally slapped himself. However, he didn't move, he just kept awkwardly standing there in silence.

Once again, Sansa smiled. This time she pointed towards the door where she was.

"Well, I'll see you downstairs in a bit, then," she said. What a polite way of telling him to get the fuck out of her bedroom while she changed!

But she was right, he had to leave!

 _Move, you fucking idiot!,_  he mentally commanded himself.

He hesitantly took one step forward, with his eyes still locked on hers. He felt like there was an invisible rope tied around him and pulling towards her, but he had to fight it. He was going to make a fool of himself if he wasn't capable of putting his thoughts in order and walking away from there. His steps slowly took him closer to Sansa, and he stopped when the distance between them was considerably small. There was a heavy tension in the air, and Sandor felt like the temperature in the room was similar to that of Hell, he was burning up from the inside out. He watched Sansa's eyes leaving his own and exploring the rest of his face for a few moments, and then she stared at him again. Her breath caught in her chest; it was just then that Sandor managed to turn his face away, and he stormed out of the bedroom.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_  he muttered in his mind while he raced down the staircase towards the main hall of the mansion.  ** _Fuck!_**

What in seven hells was he doing, acting like a buggering green boy who had never been around the presence of a beautiful woman?! While he cursed himself, he headed towards the bar that was in one of the rooms next to the main hall. He got behind the counter, took a glass and searched for the bottle of whiskey; he knew there must be one, he remembered well. Once he found it, he poured the drink into the empty glass and drank it all in one quick gulp. He left the empty glass on the counter, and he felt compelled to pour himself a second drink but he decided against it. That wasn't a good time to get drunk, while he was on the job and alone with his boss's fiancée in that place.

"She must think I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself between gritted teeth, staring down at the bottle of whiskey that he had put down.

When he raised his eyes and looked through the window to the pool, he saw that Sansa had already gone down from her room changed into a more appropriate attire for swim. Sandor suddenly wished she had stayed with the dress instead.

She was wearing a black bikini with little tiny crystals sewn on it. For the thousandth time, Sandor wondered if there was any other woman in the world who could look so incredibly stunning in black. His eyes then wandered all over her body, which was the pure image of perfection. He felt his own body reacting bot that sight, and he slammed his fist against the bar counter, frustrated.

He saw Sansa turn around then, looking for something around the pool and then inside the mansion. Could she be looking for him?

 _Yeah, to make sure you are nowhere around her, I'd dare say,_  the voice in the back of his head mocked him.

Not finding him or whatever it was that she was looking for, Sansa turned around to face the pool again. She was wearing a ponytail, but she grabbed her hair band off and let her hair loose. It cascaded down her back in perfect auburn waves that looked fiery red in the sun, and Sandor grunted again like a wild beast. He kept watching as Sansa head-dived into the deepest part of the pool and reemerged in the surface a few feet away, looking like a real life mermaid.

Sandor had been annoyed by her dozens of times since he knew her. He almost hated her at first, believing her to be some kind of selfish slut who was marrying her pick of a fiancé only for the money and power. However, now Sandor felt so much differently. He saw in her a kind person, fragile on the outside and strong in the inside. Sandor didn't know her story, but from the little tiny bit that he knew, she had put up with a lot of shit in recent times, and yet, she wasn't breaking down. She was putting up with all that shit and carrying on, and she was managing to still be kind and sweet.

He was still very annoyed, but it wasn't she herself the thing that annoyed him. It was the fact that such a woman was going to belong soon to that prick that was his boss. If only...

 _Stop right there, dog,_  the voice in his head scolded him again.  _Don't even think about it. A woman like her would never look at a man like you, not even in your dreams. Forget it. It's a childish dream, just look at yourself in a mirror!_

Sandor sighed, feeling miserable. He didn't know how long they were going to stay in that place, but he knew that it was going to be the Seventh Hell for him.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sandor walked out of the mansion again, holding a tray on his hands with a drink on it. He was never, ever, polite to his boss and never did anything nice for him or anything that wasn't a direct order; he didn't do favors. But Sansa was different, and he had promised to himself that he would make her have a good time during her stay there. That's why he thought that maybe she would like a sip of mojito. After all, it was very hot outside, and a mojito was always welcome.

He left the tray with the drink on a small table a few feet away from the pool, and then he watched Sansa while she swam underwater. Once she reached the end of the pool, she went back to the surface and moved her wet auburn hair out of the way. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times when she saw Sandor standing there in front of her. She smiled.

"Hey!" she smiled cheerfully.

"Swimming has put you in a good mood," he observed with a small smile on his face. He never usually smiled, but the gesture came so naturally to him lately. It was easy to smile when Sansa also smiled. "I brought you a mojito, I though you might want a drink."

"Oh, thank you so much!" she said, delighted. She sat on the edge of the pool, with her body covered in water droplets that sparkled in the sun and made her look like a fairy-tale goddess, and Sandor handed the drink to her. She took the glass murmuring a soft "thank you" and took a sip of the mojito. "Uuum! This is delicious!" she exclaimed, graciously licking her licks with the tip of her tongue.

Sandor's eyes followed the movement of the tip of Sansa's tongue over her lips, and he wished that it was his tongue licking those perfect, full, red lips; he wished he could taste the flavor of the drink on her, and also he wished to know how she tasted like.

 _Seriously, stop it,_ the voice in the back of his head scolded him yet again in less than twenty minutes.

He felt the temperature rising and he loosened the black tie he was wearing before he started feeling like he was choking. Sansa noticed it and she frowned, looking concerned.

"Is it very hot? You must be boiling with that black suit, it's so sunny!"

"Don't worry, I'm used to it..." he rasped, trying to look somewhere else that wasn't her chest covered only by that bikini top.

Sansa shot him an skeptical look, raising her eyebrow in a perfect arch.

"Sure... Well, it looks like you are burning up," she said, seeing him completely removing his black tie and throwing it to the side and unbuttoning the first bottoms of his shirt, leaving some space for the air to enter and cool him down.

He saw her looking at him, and he realized that she wasn't looking at him in the eyes anymore. Her amazing blue eyes were fixed on the skin that he had revealed after unbuttoning his shirt a little bit, and he believed that there was a certain spark of interest in her eyes. The way that she was looking at him... it didn't look at all like the way that she used to look at people, with her usually innocent and apparently clueless and tame gaze. No. Her look at that moment was feline, like a tiger... And hungry, like that of a wolf's.

 _Great, dog, you are insane,_  he mockingly congratulated himself in his mind. He was hallucinating for sure.  _You should get some fucking sleep and stop thinking about such made-up bullshit. She isn't looking at you in any special way! You are an **old ugly worthless**  dog!_"

He was starting to get tired about his little mental ramblings, to be honest. Wasn't a man allowed to have dreams, no matter how fucking ridiculous and foolish they were?!

He came back to reality and cleared his throat.

"As I said... I'm used to it," he rasped again. "It is no warmer than King's Landing or the Westerlands in the summer."

"Oh, but the temperatures there are terrible! I personally like the summer in the North, it's not so hot, and it snows a little bit, but you don't freeze either," she said with a sad smile on her face, remembering her homeland and the place that she had left to pursue her career and to wait for her wedding. Her sad smile disappeared when she lifted her gaze and her eyes met Sandor's again. "Why don't you take a dip in the pool?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! The water is cool and it's so nice in here!"

_Did she just ask me to join her in the pool?_

"No, thank you," he grunted.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm working. Do you want to get me fired?"

Sansa chuckled. "Of course not! That would be a pity! ... By the way, are there any cameras around here?" she asked, searching around to see if she could find any.

"Only in the main entrance, the garage door and in the back exit through the garden," he said.

"Then no one will see you, so you don't have to worry about getting fired! I promise I won't rat you out."

"I said no," he rasped, feeling uncomfortable.

She narrowed her eyes and inspected him, with interest clearly reflected in her pupils. She finished her mojito and then she stood up on the edge of the pool, splashing a bit of water around her. She advanced a few steps towards the bodyguard, slowly, until she was uncomfortably close... It didn't feel uncomfortable because Sandor didn't like the extreme closeness, but because he was forbidden from enjoying it. He fought the strong urge to wrap his arms around the young woman's tiny waist and pull her completely against him. Her face was close enough to his that he could easily claim her mouth right there and then if he wanted to, if he dared to...

"Does my company annoy you, Ser?"

"I'm no sodding Ser," he muttered between his teeth.

"You haven't answered my question."

For fucks sake, she could be terribly annoying sometimes, indeed!

"It's not appropriate," he rasped, saying the first credible thing that came to mind. Really, he wasn't lying. It wouldn't be appropriate if he tried to get as close to her as humanly possible in the most indiscreet ways, which he would try if he got alone in the pool with her. He could barely restrain himself at that moment with her standing in front of him, almost naked, covered only with that bikini.

"Oh," she murmured. Her red lips formed a perfect 'O', and Sandor felt the burning desire to bite them again. She slightly nodded her head with comprehension. "I see..."

A playful grin appeared on her face, lighting up her features and making her look quite seductive. Her eyes roamed once again all over his features before returning to his grey eyes.

"Sandor Clegane, I didn't take you for a man who cared much about what is appropriate and what is not..."

Seven fucking buggering sodding bloody hells, what was that? He was seeing a side of Sansa Stark that he hadn't seen before, a version of her that was a subtle seductress, playful, joking, fun. Not the scared girl that he met in King's Landing. And he fucking liked it, though he did not understand it!

Sansa gifted him one last smile, and then she turned her back to him and walked away to get inside the mansion again.

"It's getting late, I'm going to get a bath... Have the rest of the day for yourself, Sandor, please."

That was the last thing she said before disappearing from sight, leaving the memory of her glorious backside fixed in Sandor's mind. He stood there still for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Then he decided that the best thing to do would be to follow Sansa's previous suggestion of taking a dip in the pool, because he really needed to distract and cool himself down a bit.

He went inside the mansion and to his room to get changed. He had only one pair of swimming trunks that he had put in his luggage because, being stuck on an island for an uncertain amount of time, he was bound to go swimming at some point. After putting the swimming trunks on for later, he put on a robe and left his room. He went outside and dived into it.

He stayed there, swimming all along the pool, for a long time. Before he realized it, the sky had turned dark over his head and the stars were starting to decorate it. He had lost track of time lost in his own thoughts, but once he realized that he had been in the water for hours he felt a chill run down his body, and he decided to get out of the water before he got sick.

He dried himself with a towel, and again, he got distracted. It wasn't hot outside anymore, though the night was a bit warm, but from time to time a cold breeze would blow. When it did it made Sandor shiver. Suddenly he felt something else... like a presence behind him.

He turned around, but there wasn't anyone there. He frowned, thinking for a second that he might have imagined it, but when he raised his head he saw the little balcony of Sansa's bedroom... And he saw the curtains moving behind the window.

Had the little bird been spying on him while he swam in the pool and dried himself, just like he had watched her before when he thought that she wouldn't notice? He wanted to think so.

A massive grin appeared on his face.

* * *

He woke up all of a sudden, and cursed when he realized that he had fallen asleep without noticing it.

After going back to his room, already dry after swimming in the pool, he took a shower and changed back into his bodyguard black suit. He would have liked to wear more comfortable clothes, but he was a professional, and while Sansa had given him the rest of the day off, he had a duty to attend to. He had to stay awake until late, making sure that everything was alright around there at night. After all, he was the only person there apart from Sansa, and he had to make sure everything was safe.

However, he had laid down on his bed to relax a little bit... and he had fallen asleep. When he checked his wrist-watch, he saw that he had slept for more than an hour, and he cursed again. He had relaxed too much.

He yawned and then he stood up from the bed after rubbing his eyes to fight off the drowsiness. After that, he left his bedroom.

His footsteps took him almost directly to Sansa's bedroom. The door was almost closed, but not entirely. Sandor supposed that the girl was inside, fast asleep already. However, he wanted to check on her to make sure everything was alright.

He didn't knock on the door because, in case that she was sleeping, he didn't want to wake her up with the noise. He slowly opened the door a bit more, taking care that it didn't make any loud noise, and the light from the hallway illuminated the interior of the master bedroom of the mansion, but not enough. He could see the bed at the other side of the room, and he tried to see of she was there sleeping.

"Sansa?" he whispered slowly, in case she was awake and maybe needed something.

He didn't get any response, but when he listened carefully he also didn't hear any other sound. It was like the room was empty.

He frowned.

"Sansa?" he repeated, louder this time. Still no response.

He walked inside the bedroom and approached the bed. Once he got there, he saw that it was empty.

Sansa was gone.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, girl!"

Right after he said that, he heard the noise of something falling and breaking downstairs.


	14. Touch My Mouth, And Hold My Tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the name of the chapter from the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons.

It took him less than half a second to race out of the bedroom and head towards the stairs, running down to the main floor in the direction that the sound had come. He held his breath the whole time and moved as fast as the wind, and the only thought that crossed his mind the entire time was praying to all the gods (that he didn't even believe in! He was that desperate!) that nothing bad had happened while he was fucking asleep.

He reached the bottom of the marble staircase (he almost slipped while running down that damn slippery surface, which could have ended in him breaking his neck, but he held on and kept running), and from the corner of his eye he saw a broken vase on the floor, next to the staircase. It had fallen from an old wooden table, and there was a figure quickly moving in the shadows. The person had tried to tiptoe around the main hall, but started running as soon as Sandor appeared.

A ray of moonlight illuminated a red lock of hair, and Sandor grunted. He ran towards Sansa, who ran towards the door like a soul chased by the devil himself. She was fast, but Sansor was faster. Sansa had her hands around the door knob, and she was about to open it when Sansor arrived behind her and slammed his fist violently against the door, slamming it shut. Sansa jumped and screamed, startled, and she turned her body around putting her back again the door and facing Sandor while he glared at her, throwing knifes through his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he barked, infuriated by her attempt to escape while she thought he was asleep and wouldn't notice her sneaking away through the mansion.

"I-I... I..." she stuttered, too shocked and startled to form a coherent phrase.

"Answer me!"

"I-I wanted to go out!" she said, her voice now stronger.

"You know you are not allowed to go out alone! I have orders! If you want to go out, you wait for the morning!"

"But-but I..." Sansa looked away from him and cleared her throat. Now she was breathing more calmly, and when she looked at him again she held her head high. "I don't want to wait for the morning!"

"Well, you are going to have to! I am NOT going to get out now just because you suddenly want a midnight stroll."

"I don't want you to come with, I want to be alone!" she said, raising her voice, clearly upset. "I haven't been alone in over a year, I need some space!"

"Well, too bad, little princess," he hissed, grabbing Sansa's arm to force her to go back to her room.

She resisted and pulled her arm free, and she turned around to face the door again. Once again, Sandor pressed his hand against it so that Sansa could not get out of the mansion.

"Please..." she murmured then, much softer than how she had been speaking before and barely audible, and he thought for a moment that she was sobbing, but he wasn't sure. "I just want to get out... Just for a minute..."

"You think I'm stupid, girl? You want to escape. You'll get us into a shitload of trouble and I'm not going to put up with it!"

"You don't understand..." she said, her voice breaking. When Sandor heard her like that, he relaxed his muscles and changed the expression in his face from fury to concern.

Sansa had pressed her forehead against the door while she murmured something quietly. In the moonlight, Sandor could see that her shoulders were shaking; she was sobbing indeed, very quietly, not wanting to be seen like that.

Not knowing what to do and feeling terribly uncomfortable, but at the same time knowing that he couldn't just stand there and simply watch Sansa crying. Not feeling as awkward doing it as he did the first times, he put his arms around her small and thin body and hugged her against his chest, trying to somehow give her some comfort, even though it wasn't much. Sansa didn't resist to that movement like she had resisted to him grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the door; instead she pressed herself against him, hiding between his huge arms and staining his suit with her salty tears.

"It's okay, little bird, everything's alright..." he murmured as softly as he could, even though his voice still sounded like steel against stone. He dared to pass his hand over her hair, combing her long silky long with his fingers, trying to calm her down a bit.

She shook her head and sobbed again.

"No, it's not... You don't understand, you know nothing..."

He did understand. He did know. He knew what that was all about, what had made her want to sneak out at the slightest opportunity that she could seize, he knew what it was that had her in tears and shaking like a scared little girl between his arms. He knew everything, and he pitied her, to tell the truth... He never felt bad about anyone, but he hated what they had done to this poor and perfect woman that was so broken inside. He had seen the person that she really was, a happy, carefree and playful little bird that was able to smile when she was not surrounded by monsters anymore. It was all that light inside of her that made all her suffering and pain so much worse, in Sandor's opinion. Even though he had always been a pitiless person, he felt sorrow for her dark fate.

"I do understand, little bird," he rasped. His fingers kept caressing her hair. "I do know... I know that you are afraid, and in pain. And I know why, too."

Slowly, she moved her head away from his chest, moving a little bit away from him, putting some space between them. She looked up to his eyes; he had already become used to the darkness, and he was able to see her narrowed bless eyes studying him with a shocked and confused expression.

"You can't possibly know..." she whispered in disbelief.

"I know why you are afraid of Joffrey," he insisted, and he felt her tensing up. He shook his head. "It's not because if the beatings, or the way in which he cowardly mistreats you... It's because he had your father killed."

Sansa gasped, shocked after hearing him hear that. He could see in her eyes that she never would have expected him to know anything about that. She was horrified. Her lower lip trembled.

"You... you know about that?" She said, and her voice broke.

Gods forbid that she could be thinking that he had anything to do with it!

"I figured it out," he quickly confessed, before she could get the wrong idea in her head. He didn't want her to hate and fear him for such a thing that he had known nothing about until the previous day. "The way in which Joffrey treats you, your sister's hatred... The way in which you stubbornly keep saying that you have to marry him, even though it's the last thing you want to do in this world."

"Sandor..."

"He threatened you, didn't he?" he rasped, angry. She wiped the tears away from her face with her hand and nodded. She was still very shaken up, but she was trying to be strong. Sandor was impressed that she could stay composed even though she must be overwhelmed with negative emotions.

"He did," she admitted. "But now he's far away, and he can't see me. It's been the first time in a year that I can get away, and my family is closer than they were before. And I trust you! Please... please, let me go."

He wanted to. He wanted her to be free and run away with her family, who would take care of her once they knew what Joffrey had done and the hell that Sansa was living with him...

...Or at least, they would try to protect her. After all, Joffrey was also a Lannister. And Lannisters did not like it when someone dared to cross their family. They were powerful, and they were dangerous. Sansa would still be I'm danger if she ran away.

"I'm sorry, little bird," Sandor murmured, his voice still sounding harsh but with a gentle tone to it. "But I can't let you go. They will kill us both, and you know it."

"I know," she nodded, biting her lip, and the expression in her face became even sadder and more worried that it was before.

"But I promise that I will protect you, little bird. Always. If he dares to do anything to you, I'll kill him, I swear. I'll kill them all."

He didn't know why he was suddenly saying that, but he knew it was true. He had always been a loyal servant dog to the Lannisters, but he had drawn the line when he met Sansa. He knew that, if the moment came when he had to do it, he would kill anyone who harmed Sansa, let it be Joffrey or any other buffering idiot.

Sansa had looked away from him for a second, but the instant that those words left his mouth, she slowly moved her eyes back to his. At first there was disbelief in her eyes, then there was something similar to amazement.

And then there was something else in her eyes, some kind of spark that illuminated them with the brightest light.

All of a sudden, she grabbed his jacket to pull him closer to her. She put her other hand on the back of his head, and she stood on the tips of her toes to be able to reach his face. Sandor was only able to see a small lips on her lips before she pressed them to his, and kissed him.

It was a chaste kiss, lips to lips only, but it was intense. His short beard scratched the delicate porcelain skin of her face, and her lips tasted of strawberry. His lips tasted of whiskey.

Sandor tensed up, completely caught by surprised, but he didn't pull away immediately. He stayed there, with his mind completely in blank, for a couple of seconds before he finally closed his eyes. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment for a few moments, not thinking about anything, just feeling the glory of Sansa's kiss against his own, tasting her sweet lips and smelling her sweet perfume...

When he came to his senses he opened his eyes wide like plates, and he tensed up again. Sansa felt it and pulled away from him, breaking the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked at Sandor surprised and shy.

It took Sandor a few seconds to steady his breathing and put his thoughts in order. Sansa had just kissed him. Sansa Stark had kissed him.

What?

He sighed, feeling defeated and work down.

"Sansa..." he said, holding her arms and keeping her away from him, ignoring her confessed expression. "Seducing me won't get you anything. I won't let you go."

Sansa smiled again, confusing him even more than he already was, and she moved her body closer to us again despite his protests. She raised her hands and cupped his face with them, smiling oh-so-ever sweetly to him. Her eyes really did shine like sapphires that night.

"Don't you understand?" she whispered. "That's what I want... I don't want you to let go of me."

Once the meaning of her words hit him, he gasped, not believing it. But Sansa's eyes were not lying, she really meant it.

"Sandor..."

She kissed him again, and this time, Sandor didn't freeze. In less than a second he had surrounded her with his arms, pressing her completely against his body, and he kissed her back. His entire being, body and soul, had been asking him for this the whole day. He wasn't going to push her away. They both wanted this, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity that they had to be alone. He didn't care that he didn't understand how any of this was possible.

His tongue licked Sansa's lip, and she opened her mouth. He explored her mouth, and their tongues joined and danced together, tangling around each other. Sansa threw her arms around Sandor's neck, pressing her body to his as much as possible. She tangled her fingers between his dark hair, and she moaned against his mouth; that made Sandor groan with pleasure. He felt spark running around his body from his toes all the way up to his head.

"You don't have to do this..." he muttered in one last moment of decency before he lost all control over himself. He wanted to give Sansa one last chance to stop whatever the hell all that was, and he would pretend like it had never happened. The sound of his voice was muffled by all the kissing that was going on. He felt Sansa smiling against his mouth.

"I want to," she insisted, sounding more sincere that she ever had. So Sandor castes away any doubts that he could have about that moment and kissed her again, fiercely, passionately.

He placed his hands on her waist, but after a moment he couldn't keep them still and they proceeded to roam Sansa's perfect body. She was wearing a right navy blue dress that seemed black in the darkness of night, and it embraced her curves perfectly. Encouraged by his own passion, Sansa removed her arms from around Sandor's neck and started exploring his body as well. Even though he was fully clothed, she could feel his powerful muscles underneath the fabric of his white shirt.

He took a step forward and slammed her against the door. Sansa gasped, but Sandor silenced her with his mouth. She did not protest, and he could feel her smiling against his mouth again. He lowered his hands towards her legs and grabbed them, raising them while her back was still against the wall, and he out then around his waist. Sansa giggled and kissed him while Sandor's hands caressed her bare soft skin of the back of her legs. His blood started to boil because of the close contact with that amazing woman, and soon enough, he was hard as a rock.

Sansa felt him and she rocked her hips against his, making them both groan against each other's mouth. Sansa cupped his cheek with one of her hands and held on to his back with her other hand, and Sandor made sure that he had a good hold of her before moving away from the door and walking towards the end of the main hall. Sansa tightened the hold of her legs around him, but she let go when she felt something hard crashing against her back. She stopped kissing Sandor and gasped; she turned her head around, wanting to see what had crashed against her and made Sandor stop walking, and smiled playfully when she saw a grand piano standing there. She turned her attention back to Sandor, who was grinning broadly.

He sat her down on the hard surface of the expensive black piano. He took her face and crashed his lips against hers, still unable to understand what the hell was going on. No woman would ever want him, much less a beauty like Sansa! He did not know what kind of game she was playing, but he was loving it, so he didn't torment himself with stupid questions. If there was anything to regret, he would regret it later, not at that moment.

He felt a sharp bit pleasurable pain in his lower lip, and he slowly pulled away from Sansa. She was teasingly biting down on his bottom lip, playfully pulling from it before letting it go. Her eyes were wanton and filled his lust.

Sandor raised an eyebrow, surprised by that sexual side of Sansa that he was just now discovering, and enjoying like he had nothing else in his life. He returned the same playful and lustful look to her. He licked his lip before rasping:

"Naughty..."

She gave him another lustful, playful, sexy look with those amazingly blue eyes of his, and he lost it. He slammed his body against hers, and his hands slipped underneath the short dark dress, caressing as much skin as he could find. Sansa's skin felt like it was on fire under his hands, and being in contact with her burned him, but it was a good kind of burning.

Sansa's hands got tangled in his tie, and she loosened it until she got rid of it and she threw it aside, not caring if it landed on the floor or on the piano. She then went further ahead and grabbed Sandor's white shirt; she pulled from it, and the top buttons were ripped from the shirt, jumping in all directions. Sandor couldn't care less if the shirt was ruined. His chest was now bare, and Sansa entertained herself by admiring his powerful muscles with her eyes wide open. Her mouth even former a cute little "o". She touched each one of his abs, caressed some old scars that were a little souvenirs from war, and ran her fingers through the thick black hair of his broad chest. Sandor watched her observing him and kept grinning like before.

"Like what you see?" he dared to ask, amused by her expression.

"Yes," she whispered, breathing heavily. She finally looked away from his muscled chest, though she was still touching every inch of it, and she looked into his eyes. He found an invitation in the ocean of her pupils, and he grabbed the hem of her dress. He lifted the skirt of the dress, caressing her skin as he did so and sending shivers down her spine. Once he had completely lifted the short skirt of her dress and left her legs totally bare, he took his hand to her back to unzip her dress. After he slowly did so, grazing the skin of her back with the tips of his fingers, Sansa stripped him of his black jacket and threw it away, and the she unbuttoned the few buttons that were left on the shirt before she stripped him of it as well, leaving his upper body completely naked.

He almost laughed when he heard her gasp with delight at the sight of the muscles in his arms. Each one of them were almost the size of the waist, tick and hard as tree trunks. She touched his arms and then she kissed him again. They both closed their eyes and got lost in their kiss while Sansa's hands wandered off to his belt. She unfastened his belt with eagerness, and then she took it off and three it away to join his other pieces of clothing on the floor.

"My turn now," he muttered against her mouth, and he kept pulling her dress up, revealing more and more skin as he went on, until they broke the kiss so that he could pull the dress out of her. Once Sansa was out of the dress, Sandor threw it with his clothes and he didn't lose a second in kissing her again.

The main hall of the mansion was filled with the noises that their mouths, lips and tongues did when they French kisses passionately, and with their sound of their desperate and heavy breathing. Sandor was starting to feel dizzy from the lack of air, so he decided to take a break from kissing and explore the wonderful image that now was I front of him.

Sansa was gorgeous, but he already knew that. He had already seen her almost naked earlier, but that had been a different situation, whereas this right now was intimate and special. Sansa had the body of a goddess, with not a single imperfection nor anything out of place. She was the embodiment of beauty...

...and she was only for him to see.

"Gods, Sansa," he rasped, and he buried his face in her neck, kissing and licking and slightly biting her tender skin. He felt her shiver and heard her giggling, and it encouraged him only more to keep doing it. He then moved to the other die of her neck, kissing and biting it while one of his hands got tangled in her auburn locks, and the other explored her back, pulling him as close to him as possible.

Her curious hands moved to the zip of his pants, finding the hardness there and grazing it. He froze in that moment, suddenly snapping back to reality, apparently realizing for the first time what was happening there between him and Sansa.

Sansa, who was engaged to another man. His boss. One of the most powerful men in Westeros, and also a dangerous person.

They should not be doing what they were doing... or about to do. They should stop right there, forget that anything had happened at all, and continue their lives trying not to get killed for being wanton idiots. He should start acting like a smart person and tell Sansa to stop right then and there, give her her clothes back, and send her to bed.

She must have sensed his tension, and when he stopped kissing her neck she looked at him with a frown.

"Is everything ok?"

All his doubts went away as soon as he saw her again. Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the world. He wasn't going to let anything ruin to moment.

"Couldn't be better," was his answer, and as a response to that Sansa smiled, and slowly, almost teasingly, the moved away from him until she was laying on her back on the piano.

It was like a fucking dream, seeing Sansa laying down in that black piano, with her beautiful auburn hair sprawled in all directions over the black wood, and covered only with a revealing white lace bra and panties.

Careful not to break the piano with his weigh, he positioned himself somewhat over Sansa, and he placed his mouth right above her bellybutton, kissing her flat stomach there and making his way up her body with kisses and licks and bites everywhere. Once he reached her neck, he cupped her breast with his hands and squeezed. Sansa moaned and twisted under him, making him grin again. She threw her legs around his waist, pulling his hips closer to hers, and his hard groin grazed hers, making her moan and twist under him again.

"Sandor..." she moaned, driving her crazy. He loved the sound of his name coming out of her sweet mouth that was his to claim at that moment. "Sandor, please... Please..."

"What, little bird?" he asked, kissing her jaw. "What do you want?"

"Ta-take me..."

"What?"

"Take me... I'm all yours... Take me..." she sighed. He pulled away from her just a few inches, and after seeing the same in her eyes that he felt inside of him, he didn't even give it a second thought.

In less than a second he had grabbed her, pulled her away from the piano and taken her up the stairs and into her room. The moonlight illuminated the bedroom completely and allowed him to fine the huge bed with no trouble. He threw Sansa on too of the bed, making her squeal, and grinned as she laid there waiting for him, watching as he unzipped his pants and pulled them off, leaving only a pair of dark boxers on him. She waited for him to take those off too, but he only took off his shoes and then he just stood there, waiting for her. Sansa understood his silent request, and she kneeled on the bed and turned her back to him. She moved her hands to the clasp of her bra and took it off with a single movement, and then she ever-so-slowly took it off. However, because she had her back turned to him, he couldn't see her naked front, and he groaned in frustration. She enjoyed it, and that made him even more frustrated. She was playing with him, knowing that he was dying of desire for all of her. She cupped her breast with he own hands, shielding them away from view before turning around to face him again. He grained again, making her know that he was not happy with her denying him that view, but he also felt amazed by how sexy he found the image of Sansa cupping her breasts... If only those were his hands right then...

She lowered her gaze for a moment, and he knew what she wanted.

 _Alright, then,_  he thought as he also took his boxers off, leaving himself completely naked in front of the bed and in front of Sansa. Once he got rid of the piece of clothing, he stood tall and proud, and above all, hard.

The way in which Sansa's jaw dropped when she saw him as naked as the day he was born was priceless. Sandor could have even laughed if the situation had been different, and enjoyed the way in which Sansa approvingly took in every detail of him; she looked very pleased.

When she stared at Sandor again, she didn't move for a couple of seconds, until she finally moved her hands away from her breast. Sandor felt short of breath again as they were revealed to him. Big, round and full, they were perfect. He wanted to do so many things with them...

He jumped on the bed then, and Sansa squealed again. Sandor silenced her with a kiss again, and he was alarmed when he realized how quickly he was becoming addicted to Sansa's mouth. He was becoming addicted to all of her, truth be told.

He covered her body with his own, and he enjoyed the sound of her gleeful laughs and he kissed and caressed every single inch of her body. Her panties soon flew to the floor, leaving Sansa just as naked as Sandor was, and she threw her arms around him, kissing and touching and feeling every inch of him just as he was doing with her.

He asked her again if that was what she wanted. He did not want to force her to do anything, he was not that kind of man; he left that job to other bastards, and he intended to protect her from them as best as he could.

She answered yes. That was genuinely what she wanted, and Sandor could not find anything else stopping them from doing what they both wanted... There was nothing stopping them from pursuing their deepest and most secret desires...

...Even if it was for that night only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I hope you enjoyed that!
> 
> I cut it short right there instead of writing more and further describing their intimacies because lately I've been feeling that I prefer to write the emotions that they feel before going to the next level and having a hot night and mentions some details here and there, instead of just write graphic descriptions of their new affair. I think it's better to leave it to the imagination of the reader, we have all read too much SanSan hotness already (and we all know that these two are going to have hot scandalous sex, nothing less, so it's easy to imagine).
> 
> I might write more graphic situations with these two further on. Maybe I'll decide to write about that in the beginning of the next chapter, who knows!
> 
> but as of right now, I feel like it is better how I left it, hot but not graphic and open to the imagination of the readers. If you prefer more specific sexy times, you are welcome to tell me! I like opinions ^^
> 
> So yeah, I hope you have liked the chapter! :D 
> 
> Now I'm off to sleep, I've been writing this until 5 am.


	15. What If Today Is As Good As It Gets?

Some rays of the morning sunlight came through the window and fell directly on Sandor's face. Though he was undisturbed at first, he wasn't a heavy sleeper, and he eventually slightly opened one of his eyes after the light had been bothering him for a couple of minutes.

His head was turned to the side, with his face resting of the soft and fluffy pillow, so the first thing that he saw with his eyes was the window. When he blinked directly at the sunlight he felt his eye itchy, so her closed it again immediately and turned his face away from the strong light of the morning. He blinked several times, fighting away the drowsiness that had taken hold of his body after a long night of very little sleep. Sandor rubbed his face with his left hand and took a deep breath, thinking about how relaxed and calm and relieved he felt. He hadn't felt like that in a long time. He felt… happy?

Then he felt her at his side. Sansa.

He lowered his gaze so that he could look at her. He almost couldn't believe that he was waking up next to Sansa Stark in the same bed, after having spent what was quite possible the best night of his entire life with her. Mesmerized by her beauty and by the fact that she was there, sleeping peacefully by his side, Sandor observed her in silence. He had fallen asleep on his back, like almost always, and the young woman had embraced him before falling asleep with her head in his naked chest. She had pressed her own body against his, with made both of them stay warm and comfortable during the night. She had laid her arm over and around him; the rest of their limbs were tangled around each other, with Sandor's right arm underneath Sansa's body and Sandor's right leg on top of Sansa's left leg, and her right leg on too and curled around his leg. It was almost impossible for them to be any closer, and Sandor felt a funny tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He recalled the events of last night, and a storm of images invaded his mind. Memories of passionate moans and groans full of lust. Shared kisses in the dead of the night. Sandor found himself enjoying the memory of how sweet Sansa's mouth was; and not only her mouth was sweet...

The image of her twisting and moaning underneath him brought a smile to his lips that he was unable to fight off. Not matter how much he tried or wanted to, that morning there was nothing that could possibly turn his mood foul like always. He had kissed the Little Bird, and then she had sang for him. She sang a sweet and precious song, just for him to hear and no one else. He had made her his entirely, just as he had been hers in every way in which he possibly could.

Three times. Three times he had made love to her in the bedroom illuminated only by the moonlight that had come through the window. Three times during the entire night they had belonged to each other, and each time Sansa sang louder, and Sandor lost himself even further in the pleasure of having her between his arms. Three times in which he had enjoyed as much as he could of that beautiful and precious jewel that should have been for a dog like him to posses, but he had anyways, before they had finally fell victims of exhaustion.

He had never felt like that with a woman. No other had ever awoken in him the emotions that Sansa had awoken. While every other woman in his past had only been a means to satisfy his needs, Sansa had been much more. She had awoken in him a need for all of her, not just her body. The girl had fucking bewitched him, there was no other explanation to his absurd behavior and thoughts around her.

While never taking his grey eyes off her sleeping face, he moved his left hand to her bare back, which was not completely covered by the white sheet that covered both of them, and he gently stroked with the tips of his big and calloused fingers Sansa's soft white skin, yearning to feel all of her again.

He had tried to be as gentle with her as he could, more so that he wouldn't scare her off than because she needed it. Sansa was no maiden, that was sure. He had figured that out long before that night anyways, and he wasn't jealous that she had been someone else's before him, it was kind of normal. Besides, given by the pleasurably surprised expression of satisfaction in her face while he fucked her, he knew had probably been the best one. It was incredibly stupid and he knew it, but for some reason his male ego felt proud with that little piece of information.

After a few seconds caressing the soft and creamy skin of her back, Sandor realized that Sansa's eyelids were moving. He hesitated and almost moved his hand away from her, but them he decided against it and kept sliding the tips of his finger softly over her shoulders and spine. The simple contact sent sparks from his fingertips all the way through his body.

Sansa blinked softly and slowly opened her eyes the slightest bit. She appeared a bit confused at first, and her blue eyes were not really focused anywhere. Then, those amazing blue pupils found his grey ones and she locked her eyes on his, still with her eyelids half closed and a bit confused. That and her long red hair sprawled all over the pillow and her arm around Sandor's body gave her a very dreamy look.

Then, after a few seconds, she smiled. The corners of her small perfect mouth curled up ever so slightly, illuminating her expression. She had lifted her head off a bit from Sandor's chest, but just to look at him better.

"Good morning," she whispered.

Sandor felt both relieved and a bit scared after he heard her talk. Was she fully conscious of what had happened, did she remember everything? She looked still half asleep to him; maybe after she was less drowsy she would start regretting the last night.

"Good morning," he said after a few seconds, fighting off his worries. He kept looking into her eyes and caressing her bare back, and Sansa blinked slowly and made a face that reminded him of a purring cat that was being petted.

Then she opened her eyes a bit more and lifted her head more from his chest, looking straight at him with an inquiring expression.

"Was last night a dream?"

Sandor started to feel dread again after hearing her worlds. Did she want it to be a dream? A nightmare, perhaps? Would she run away from the bed, disgusted and horrified, once she confirmed that last night had been real?

"No," he finally said, not really knowing what to expect, but knowing also that there was no way of escaping from whatever Sansa's reaction was going to be.

To his delight and pleasant surprise, Sansa's red lips curled up again in a bigger smile than the previous one, and she sighed. She closed her eyes again and rested her head on Sandor's broad and powerful chest: she pressed her body even more to Sandor's, and then she took a deep breath and relaxed.

Sandor was dumbstruck, almost unable to believe what was happening. A small and genuine smile appeared on his face, pulling and twisting his terrible scars, but he didn't care about them at that moment. For once he was able to forget the misery that they had brought to him his entire life.

He continued to caress Sansa's bare back with his right hand, and he moved his left arm to caress with that hand her soft and rosy cheek. Sansa smiled when she felt his fingers stroking her cheekbones, and she chuckled lightly. She took her arm away from around his waist and placed her hand on his muscled chest, and moved her fingers between the dark curly hairs that were there. It provoked a tinkling sensation to Sandor, and as a response a low pleasurable groan came from the back of his throat. It felt so good when Sansa touched him…

Slowly, his own eyes started to close again, and he buried his face in Sansa's hair. He sniffed and smelled her delicious scent, so sweet and fresh… Everything just felt glorious.

 _Damn me, I must have died and gone to the wrong place instead of the Seven Hells… Or maybe I am in the Seven Hells, and this is my torture. Having a taste of her when I know that she will never be completely mine,_ he thought, feeling an awful regret then.

It was true; Sansa could never be his. He might have shared her bed and fucked her senseless all throughout the night, but Sansa was engaged to another. She belonged to that prick Joffrey, and Sandor wasn't enough of a fool to believe that he would ever let her go. Even then, Sandor pretty much doubted that Sansa could ever be with anyone else. Sandor knew Joffrey very well; the young man either had to have what he wanted, or no one else would have it.

They were resting in peace and silence on the bed for a couple of minutes, feeling their bodies pressed against each other, hearing the deep sound of their breathing, and slightly touching and caressing each other. The window was wide open, covered only by some curtains, and a slight breeze entered the bedroom and made goosebumps appear on their skin. Sandor tightened his arms around Sansa so that she wouldn't be cold, and he enjoyed the warmth that her naked body beneath the sheets provided him. They laid there together in silence listening to the distant sound of the waves breaking in the beach, not far away from the mansion.

The peace and was broken when a phone started ringing. Sandor did not recognize the ring tone, which was a pop song (he would meet have a buggering pop song as a ring tone!) so he deduced it was Sansa's phone. This was confirmed when she groaned, bothered by the interruption of whoever it was that was calling her at that early hour, and she lifted her head from Sandor's chest and turned it to the side to look for her phone. Sandor opened his eyes and watched her search for the phone with her eyes, until they both realized that the phone was inside the girl's bag on a chair at the other side of the room. She groaned again and decided to ignore it, not feeling on the mood to attend any calls at that moment.

The phone stopped ringing, only to start again a few moments later. Sansa completely ignored it, though Sandor found it very annoying after multiple seconds of constant ringing.

"Who could it be?" he asked then, wondering who in Seven Hells would call Sansa at that unholy hour in the morning.

"I don't care," she groaned, but her voice was muffled against his skin because she had buried her face in the space between his neck and his shoulder. The movement of her lips against his neck sent another set of sparks all through his body.

"What if it is your _beloved_ fiancé?" Sandor asked, putting as much sarcasm as he could in the word "beloved". If it was Joffrey the one who was calling to check in Sansa or whatever, they could get in trouble.

Sansa still didn't care.

"He can leave a message," was her simple answer.

She hoped that the caller would give up and maybe try again later, but that didn't happen. Whoever was calling was persistent in his attempt of reaching Sansa, and by the fifth time that the cell phone rang Sansa understood that the person wasn't going to stop until she got up for the bed and answered the call. She sighed exasperated, and removed her face from Sandor's neck, leaving him with an empty sensation in that place.

"Excuse me..." she said as she removed her limbs from around him and tried to get up from the bed.

She stopped trying when she realized that she was completely naked, and apparently she didn't fancy the idea of walking all the way across the room like that. She tried to take the bedsheets with her and cover herself with them, but that would leave Sandor completely naked on the bed with nothing to cover him. As soon as Sansa noticed that, her cheeks turned bright red. Sandor saw her and laughed under his breath, impressed by the fact that she was still able to feel ashamed or embarrassment, even though she had proven to him that she wasn't some innocent and clueless little girl last night.

Sandor watched with interest while Sansa decided; he was curious as to whether if she was going to prefer to walk around naked in front of him (which he would greatly appreciate), or she was going to prefer to leave him exposed so that she could be covered. He put his hands behind his head and raised an eyebrow, giving Sansa a mischievous look. She turned her eyes to him, embarrassed at first, but then an equally mischievous grin spread through her face and immediately after she took the white sheets and put them around her like a cloak, covering herself. She stood up from the bed and left Sandor completely naked and in full sight for her to see. She crossed the room to get to her purse, inside of which the phone continued ringing non-stop. She fished it out of the bag and proceeded to take the call, not before turning around and roaming her eyes all over Sandor's nakedness long on her huge bed. She bit her lower lip in a sexy and wanton way, and her eyes filled with the same desire that Sandor had seen in her last night.

When Sandor saw that fire returning to her, he threw his head back a little and roared with laugher, amused and pleased by the wolf in which Sansa had become.

"Ssssshhhhh!" she urged him to go silent, putting her index finger over her lips.

He stopped laughing, and Sansa lowered her eyes to see in the screen of her smartphone who was calling.

"Oh, really?!" she exclaimed, not amused. Sandor wondered who it was. Sansa took a deep breath before finally answering the call, and she made an effort to smile and be charming. When she talked, her voice was sweet and welcoming. "Hey, Petyr!"

Sandor frowned. Petyr? As in Petyr Baelish, her agent? What was he doing calling so fucking early in the morning? Sandor did not like that man. He hadn't paid him a lot of attention in particular when he had seen him in person, but later he took a bit of interest in the man that spent hours with Sansa outside of the Red Keep mansion, so he did some research. The man didn't come from an important or rich family, but he had become wealthy in no time after he graduated from University. He had been responsible for discovering lots of people with the potential to become artists (most of them were women), and turning them into music and Hollywood stars. Sansa had been his biggest and most important success. Sandor didn't particularly like the man, but he didn't find any reasonable reason to mistrust him, so he had paid him no further attention until he called Sansa at that moment.

Sansa was silent while she listened to Petyr talking on the other side of the line. She frowned, and then her mouth took the shape of a small "o".

"Wait, what do you mean I am late...? Oh! Oh, Petyr, I'm so sorry, I forgot to tell you! With the funeral and everything and then I had to do a lot of stuff and I forgot, forgive me! I'm not in King's Landing, didn't Joffrey tell you?"

She listened in silence again while Baelish talked, and Sandor waited patiently for her on the bed. At that moment he really, deeply disliked the man for calling. Couldn't he have done that fucking later?

Sansa heard something that surprised her.

"Oh! They sent it? Really?" She raised her eyebrows, suddenly she looked more interested in the call. She leaned against the wall while she kept listening to Baelish's words, and Sandor listening with curiosity, wondering what was going on. "Ok, well, I can't go and pick it up because, you know, I'm miles away from King's Landing," she chuckled. "Could you send it to me? You just did that? Good! Okay, I'll take a look at it and... I'll get back to you! Sounds good? When do we have to confirm if I want it or not?"

Silence. Then Sansa nodded her head.

"Alright. Ok, so how about if I call you in four days?" she asked. "Yeah. Okay, perfect! Thank you so much, Petyr, you are the best."

Sandor narrowed his eyes and felt something dark building up inside him right after he heard Sansa saying that. What the fuck? Was he jealous?

He snorted, annoyed, and Sansa moved her eyes back to him. She saw his angry (and yes, he had to admit it. Jealous! Jealous like a mad dog!) expression and she grinned, taking amusement in his discomfort. He growled again, indignant by the fact that she found his jealousy towards the compliments that she gave other men amusing. She put her index finger against her mouth to remind him to remain silent still, and she fought the urge to giggle a bit. Sandor found himself rolling his eyes, which he never usually did, but the situation was ridiculous. He was feeling jealous over a girl saying mere courtesies to another man, and the girl wasn't even _his_ girl to begin with. Pathetic.

"Bye Petyr. Have a good day!" Sansa said with her sweet and charming voice, often reserved for the public.

After saying her goodbyes she hung up the phone and she threw it back inside her purse before looking at Sandor again. As soon as her eyes met his she giggled out loud, not being able to resist after seeing his scowl.

"He is the best, isn't he?" Sandor scoffed, provoking Sansa to laugh a little bit harder than before.

"I make a lot of money thanks to him, I guess a little bit of flattery is in order!" she explained, crossing the room to reach the bed.

"Ah, so you are manipulating him, aren't you? Lying to the poor bugger and keeping his hopes up," he mocked.

"Well, he is my agent after all. If I don't keep him happy he might go around spilling my dirty little secrets..." Sansa said playfully, and then she pouted. Once she was next to the bed she laid down on it, but instead of lying of the soft mattress she laid on top of Sandor's naked body. She tangled her fingers in the dark hair of his chest, and he surrounded her body with his strong arms, keeping her close to him.

He raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Oh really? You have dirty little secrets?"

She shrugged, still grinning playfully. "Doesn't everybody?"

He knew she was joking, but he liked the game she was playing. He liked this more fun side of Sansa, so different and alive compared to the way in which she was in King's Landing, around all those politicians that were slowly consuming her.

"Maybe," he nodded. "Am I going to be one of the little secrets that he knows about?"

"No," she said immediately, becoming very serious all of a sudden. She lowered her gaze and stared down at her hands on his chest for a couple of seconds before staring back at him again. Her expression was sad. "No one can know."

"I know, little bird," he said, turning more serious as well. "I know. I was just joking."

"I know, but..." Sansa didn't finish her sentence, and she sighed, worried.

"Tell me something," he said then. "Last night. Do you regret it?"

He needed to know. For some reason, he really needed to know. Was he only a one night stand that many nothing? Was he a mistake made by a young woman desperate to escape her awful reality? What had last night been? How did Sansa feel? He expected her to say yes, that she did regret it, that it had been wrong, a mistake. However, there wasn't any hesitation either in her eyes nor voice when she said:

"Never."

Immediately after she made that confession, small as it was, but so meaningful and sincere, Sandor placed his huge hand gently in Sansa's nape and pulled her in for a kiss. He pressed his lips against hers and heard Sansa gasp by the sudden movement, but she smiled against his mouth and didn't resist at all to his approach. She welcomed and he could feel it; he then opened her mouth with his tongue and introduced it inside her small and warm mouth, joining it in a wet and sexual dance with Sansa's tongue. He heard her moaning in the back of her throat, and felt his body quickly reacting to her as soon as she moved her hands over his chest and then put her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him. Because she wasn't holding the sheets around her anymore and because she had moved her arms, the sheets slipped a bit off her, revealing her naked upper body. Sandor's hands moved to the part of her back that was bare and he held her against him possessively. He deepened the kiss, filling the room with wet sounds and muffled groans of pleasure; he wanted to flip her on her back and lay on too of her and make her his for a fourth time.

He was about to decide to do just that when Sansa broke the kiss and gently pulled away from him. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him with a broad smile on her lips. He questioned her with his eyes, and she giggled and leaned in to kiss him again, shortly this time. Before breaking the kiss again, she bit down softly on his lower lip, pulling from it and teasing him before letting go and getting up from the bed. She ran away from the room like a little girl that had done something mischievous, leaving him behind, staring at the door where she had disappeared from sight.

He was going to go after her, but first he started thinking. Just yesterday he was feeling miserable over the fact that he could never have that beautiful and wonderful woman that he only recently had discovered that he desired more than anything. What was there about her to not desire? He couldn't think of a thing. He had spent hours hating himself and his bad luck for who he was, because being that horribly scarred and ill-tempered dog took away from him all chances of ever being able to have at least a bit of Sansa. And now there he was, on her bed, and she was his. Perhaps she wants his in the complete and strict sense of the word; yes, she still belonged to another, and he hated that. But she had been his in the most intimate way possible, and it had been genuine. It had been real.

Forgetting just once about how much he hated sentimentalities, he thought to himself for the first time in his life what a fucking lucky old dog he was.

 

They had breakfast together. They didn't speak much, perhaps feeling a little shy over the recent events, but Sandor definitely enjoyed the flush that was still present in Sansa's cheeks. She had put on a robe, and her hair was loose and fell over her shoulders and back like a cascade of red waves. Sandor wasn't walking around naked anymore, he had taken a very quick shower and he had put on his usual bodyguard black suit. He drank his morning coffee while he observed Sansa sipping her tea; he was amused when he discovered that he liked the way in which she carefully blowed her tea to cool it off. Everything about Sansa screamed "lady", and yet, he loved that about her. She was everything that he had always disliked, and yet, she was it in a way in which he really liked it. There was something odd and special about her.

The rest of the morning went by peacefully. Sansa left to take a shower and when she returned downstairs she was wearing a green bikini, displaying her perfect body, and she was carrying a big bunch of printed papers. Sandor had heard something printing from the computer in the office upstairs, and he wondered what it was.

Sansa say down on a deck chair next to the pool, with her head under the shade and the rest of her body under the sun, and she proceeded to read the papers that she had printed. Sandor left her there and went around the house for some time doing some stuff that he had to do, and after he was done he stepped outside of the mansion and walked towards the deck chair where Sansa was sitting, and he discovered that she had already read most of the papers. She was a fast reader.

"What is it?" he asked, and she noticed for the first time that he was there.

"A script for a new movie. The director told Petyr that he wants me in it because he loved my performance in " _Gunslinger_ ". This is why he called me before, they just sent him the script last night and he wanted me to read it."

"What is it called?"

" _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._ "

He scoffed when he heard the title.

"Seriously? What kind of title is that? What his the movie about?"

"It's a romantic comedy! It's about a young girl who finds love where she thought she would never find it. Here, look, this is the song of the movie. The director said that he would at least want me to perform the song even if I end up not having the part."

She took one of the sheets of paper and handed it over to him. He took it and read the first line, which was the title of the song, named the same as the movie: " ** _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._** " He started reading the lyrics and was halfway through them when he noticed something. First he frowned, then he raised his eyebrows with surprise, and finally with roared with laugher. Sansa took her attention away from her reading to look at him, and she asked him what was so funny after he was done laughing his arse off.

" _He licked the honey from her hair?_ " he asked, reading out loud the line from the lyrics that had made him laugh. Then he gave Sansa a knowing look. "You know that it does not have a literal meaning, right?"

" _Of course_ I know it means something else!" Sansa exclaimed, offended by the way in which he was looking at her, like she was some innocent and clueless school girl. "I'm not stupid, and I wasn't born yesterday!"

"I know," he said, accompanying his sentence with a lusty look from his eyes, meaning to imply something else with his response. How could he not know that Sansa wasn't a clueless innocent little girl, when last night that had been proved? Sansa understood him again and scoffed, returning her attention to her reading. Sandor laughed under his breath and read the song again.

"What kind of movie is this anyway, with a song like this? Fucking _bestiality_?"

Sansa gasped, and tried to respond but was unable to, because the words kept getting caught in her mouth. She turned bright red and shook her head, disgusted by some mental image that Sandor's comment might have planted in her head.

" ** _No!_** " she was finally able to protest. "However, it is not very... _discreet_."

"Really?" he wondered. "Joffrey will not be happy."

 _And neither will I_ , he thought, knowing that he would be really angry if he saw Sansa in some movie with some stupid actors and hot scenes. However, he did not mention that, for he couldn't do anything about it if she decided to take the part in that movie. Besides, she was a singer and an actress, and weren't those people doing that kind of stuff the whole time?

Sansa shrugged and chuckled.

"I know, that's the funny part. I'm forced to be his puppet the whole time and he controls everything that I do, but my job is something that slips through his fingers more often than not. I'm dying to see his face when he hears that I've been offered the main role in this movie. There is a sex scene" She pretended to be completely shocked and gasped in a very fake way, later covering her mouth with her hand and looking at Sandor with wide eyes. " _Scandalous!_ "

She went back to her normal expression, but she had left a smile of Sandor's face. There was a strong spark in Sansa, there was no doubt about that. She fought with what she could.

"I don't even know yet if I'm going to accept it, but I don't care if Joffrey doesn't like it. He will have to shut his mouth, because he won't want to raise any suspicion with the press, and that's what will happen of he forbids me to take the part."

"He deserves to burn in hell for what he has done to you," Sandor rasped, suddenly feeling very angry.

"I know, but I can't do anything," Sansa said, saddened. "If I try anything, he will hurt my family. My brothers, my mother... even my nephew. I can't let him do that."

"If it wasn't for me, he would be dead," Sandor rasped bitterly, remembering how he had pushed Joffrey out of the way of the bullet that should have killed him, but had killed Governor Renly Baratheon instead. "You would be safe."

"You are his bodyguard," Sansa retorted. "You didn't have a choice, you did what you had to do. I'm not angry at you for saving his life. Besides, I would be safe from him, but I wouldn't be safe from Cersei or Tywin. They would never let me go back to my family, I know too much."

"Maybe your sister will try to kill them too," Sandor suggested.

"Can we please stop talking about this? I don't want to think about Joffrey or his family. I am finally away from them, I want some peace," Sansa asked, and Sandor nodded his head. She was right, she deserved a break from all of them and all the Lannister shit. Sansa went back to reading the script while Sandor stood still next to her, watching her. After a minute or so, she sighed and put the pages that she was reading away, placing them on a small table that was next to the deck chair. She stood up from the deck chair and took a step towards Sandor. When she was in front of him she put her arms around him, and he did the same to her.

"Are you alright, little bird?" he asked, noticing that her little smile was a little sad.

"Yes," she nodded. "It's just that... I know that we have just started to be, eh... _closer_ yesterday," as soon as she said that she turned bright red again, and her smile became bigger. "But I, eh... I really like you," she confessed, having a little trouble to find the right words to express what she wanted to say. She was embarrassed, so her face continued to be bright red and she wasn't able to look at Sandor in the eyes for several seconds, but when she finally looked at him he could see that she was being sincere. "And, as long as we are here, I want us to spend as much time together as possible, before I... Well, before I have to go back and... get married..."

Right. Eventually they would both be taken away from that small paradise and thrown back to the capital. Their little fantasy that they had just formed would be broken. Sandor would go back to being the bodyguard, and Sansa... she would become Mrs Baratheon. She would definitely be out of his reach... forever.

One thing of what Sansa had said got stuck in his mind, and made him grin.

"You really like me, little bird?" he asked, feeling like a lovesick fool. He barely recognized himself that morning. "You like this ugly, rude, old, poor dog?"

"First of all, you are not a dog," she immediately said. "And you are not old. And I couldn't care less about money."

"But you don't deny that I'm ugly."

"Sandor..." Sansa raised her hand and touched his burned cheek. He couldn't feel almost anything because the nerves had been burned, and he expected her to be disgusted by the twisted scars and pull her hand away, but she didn't. "Didn't I tell you once? Lately I have discovered that there are so many things to one's beauty. The physical part is overrated. Why do I want a handsome man when he is a monster inside? Besides, this scars mean nothing. They are not you, they are just the mark that was left after a terrible accident that happened to you. Don't let them define who you are."

"Wise words for a little bird," he murmured, unsure of what else to say, or think.

"Contrary to what most people think, I'm not stupid, Sandor. And I mean what I said before, I really like you. You scared me when I first met you. You were a... a rude asshole," she said. If felt strange to hear her curse, when she was always so polite and proper, but she was being sincere. "But then I met the real you. The version of you that was kind to me when no one else was, even though you had no reasons to be nice to me at all. So, if you want, I want to spend as much time with you in this place just being a normal, happy person."

She thought that she could be normal and happy with him. Had Sandor been told that by someone a couple of days ago, he would have never believed it, and he would have choked whatever idiot had dared to say such a stupidity to him. But now he was hearing those words directly from Sansa's mouth. He liked her plan; just being together in that place, away from the politics and the people and everybody that was hurting her, that made her life miserable, that forced her every day to become someone fake, someone that wasn't the real her, or at least not anymore. She knew that she didn't have to be scared around Sandor, and he was glad that she knew that. He had promised to himself that he wouldn't let any more harm come to her if he could avoid it, and now he had the chance to make her happy for at least a little while. He had never been good at making people happy, but he believed he could. He was being given the option of trying at least. He could try to make Sansa happy while he was alone with her. He had made her happy since they arrived at the mansion, had he not? And she had made him happy as well. Who would have ever thought that...

"You know that I will still be a rude asshole frequently, don't you?" he asked her.

She laughed a little bit and nodded.

"Yes."

"And you know that you'll be regretting ever wanting to spend time with me probably very soon?"

"I doubt it very much, but whatever you say."

"And still, you want to spend time with me?"

"Don't you?" she asked.

As a response, Sandor pulled Sansa closer to him and before she could react, he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her passionately. Sansa gasped against his mouth, surprised, but she kissed him back and threw her arms around his neck. Sandor's hands roamed over her body, covered only by the green bikini. Her skin was warm after being exposed to the sun, and it felt good to touch her.

They broke apart when they started feeling short of breath. They still had their arms around each other, and their faces were so close to each other that their noses touched. They stood there for a couple of seconds before Sansa walked away from Sandor and went to pick something from the table next to the deck chair. Then she turned around to face him again and held up what she had picked up: sunscreen.

She waved the bottle in front of him.

"Will you lend me a hand with this?" the asked, turning her back to him. A playful smile decorated her face again. "I can't reach my back..."

Grinning, Sandor took a few steps towards her and picked up the bottle from her hands. She laid faced own on the deck chair while he opened the bottle and spilled some sunscreen into his hands before kneeling at her side, and he started applying the sunscreen on her smooth back, being as gentle as he could.

She closed her eyes and purred like a cat.

"Oh, that feels nice..."

Sandor leaned in over her and placed a kiss on the small of her back, which now tasted of cream, and he worked his way with his mouth all the way up her spine until he reached her shoulders, and then her neck.

"Don't get too used to it, little bird."


	16. Surprise, Surprise...

"You are going to roast if you stay in the sun one more minute."

"Shut up."

"You are going to get skin cancer," he insisted.

"No, I won't," she protested.

"Yes, you will."

Sansa opened her eyes and glared at Sandor. He was leaning against the frame of the French windows that led to the back garden and the pool of the mansion, and he was observing her from behind his dark glasses. Even though Sansa couldn't see his grey eyes behind the black crystal, she could sense his knowing look, and when he raised an eyebrow she scoffed, pretending to be offended. However, mere seconds later a soft smile pulled her lips into a flirty curve.

"Maybe if you brought me a parasol, like I've been asking you to do for the past five days..."

"I think I'll pass. Instead, you could leave that damn deck chair and come inside the house!"

"I don't know if you have noticed, Sandor, but it is _summer_. It's not going to be summer forever, and once I'm back in the capital I won't see another little bit of sunlight in weeks. Now, if you don't mind..."

"When did you become so bossy, Miss Stark?" Sandor joked, watching as Sansa adopted a more comfortable position on the deck chair that had become her favorite spot in the backyard, and reached out to take her sunglasses and her iPod from the small round table at her side.

Sansa turned her head to look at him again, and winked playfully before putting her big and fashionable sunglasses on.

"Maybe I've always been, Mr Clegane," she said before letting her head rest on the deck chair and plugging her earphones in. The music that she was listening to, some modern pop song, could be heard from where Sandor was standing.

He stayed there, leaning on the frame of the French windows, watching Sansa while she sunbathed and listened to her music, quietly humming the lyrics and moving her body a bit to the rhythm of the song. He admired her beautiful and perfect body, which had been of a creamy pale color when they arrived at Sapphire Isle and now had turned into a light golden color beneath the sun. A tan line could be appreciated on her hips, where some of her bikinis covered her and this the skin had not been as exposed at the rest of her. She was definitely a different girl than the one that had left King's Landing a week ago; not just physically, but emotionally Sansa was much healthier in that place. She had been livelier than in the capital the first day that they had arrived there, yes. While back with her fiancé she had been quiet and shy and did as she was told and always stood in the background, constantly afraid, in Sapphire Isle she had instantly become a fun and sweet and smiling person. But now, since the first night that she and Sandor had spent together, she seemed like there was a sun in her core, and she radiated light from every pore in her body.

Sandor hadn't slept a single night in his own bed; he had officially found his place next to Sansa every night for as long as they got to stay on that mansion alone. In that past week, Sandor had given Sansa everything that she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Some of those nights, Sansa had sought out his body. She hadn't directly jumped on him like the first night (which had been something incredibly unexpected of her), but instead she had shyly and innocently kissed him and gotten a little closer to him, until he got the silent message. Not that it took him long to get the message. As soon as Sansa's lips touched his own and her body was slightly pressed into his, he always felt his blood go up and his cock ache for her. His entire body and would craved her, hungered for her body and went thirsty for the entirety of her being.

Other nights, like last night, Sansa had only needed his company, and he had gladly given it to her. She was a lonely girl, and had lacked love and affection for a long time while she was locked up in the Red Keep, away from her family and those she loved, afraid that anything might happen to them if she didn't keep her fiancé happy and didn't do as she was told. Sandor had held her in his strong arms in a protective way, and he hadn't let go of her for a single second until the sun rose up in the morning and they both woke up. Sansa had fallen asleep with her leg tangled with his, and her small and delicate body had been curled up against his muscular one. She had placed her ear right above his chest and she had fallen asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart, which was better than any lullaby ever heard in the entire world. Sandor had stayed awake longer than her, feeling her relaxing in his arms. He had stared at the darkness while he smelled the sweet scent of her beautiful and soft hair and felt the softness of her skin against his body. It was paradise, and he still couldn't figure out what he had done to deserve it. Neither could he figure out why anyone would like to hurt that beautiful, sweet, pure and defenseless creature, why anyone would want to mistreat her and abuse her. Well, he did know: the world was shut, and was full of even bigger shit. And though there was little that he could do, at least he could make a few of Sansa's moments in that terrible life of hers feel happy.

He knew he had succeeded because, as soon as his grey eyes got accustomed to the darkness and he could see Sansa almost perfectly in the darkness of her bedroom, asleep in his arms, he saw her lips pulled into a happy smile. That made him happy too. Nothing had been able to make him happy before, not in a long time.

Not until she appeared in his life like a hurricane, turning everything upside down.

Life before Sansa had not been happy, but it had been simple. Sandor had a routine, he had a set of rules that were always the same. He was a fighter, he was a servant, he was a bodyguard. He had protected Joffrey Baratheon since the douche was a bawling pompous puff ball of golden hair. He knew that all he had to do every day was protect his boss, and that was it. There was nothing else. Nothing was right or wrong, because it didn't matter. Sandor didn't care about anything or how things were done, he only had to care about his job. But shortly after he had met Sansa, everything started to change. Sandor had started questioning things that he should or not should be doing, and even though he had just unconsciously thought about them, those thoughts were becoming stronger. He now didn't just dislike Joffrey. He truly despised him.

It went against Sandor's instincts as the best bodyguard in Westeros, but he knew that he should have fucking let Joffrey be killed the other day.

Sandor had kept his promise of spending the whole time with Sansa while they were in Sapphire Isle. He always had breakfast, lunch and dinner with her. He spent the sunny hours of the day in the pool with her, sometimes joining her in the water and foolishly playing with her like a stupid teenager, and sometimes he just sat at her side in the backyard. In the evening they watched some TV together, even though they fought about what channel to put. They had come to the agreement that they would take turns each day, and last night had been Sansa's turn: she had made Sandor watch a movie called "French Kiss." Sandor didn't complain much about the movie, because after it had had its happy ending and Sansa had shed a couple of happy tears, they had continued their evening with intense kissing.

At that moment, Sansa was laying by herself on the deck chair and Sandor was standing several feet away from her, fully dressed in his black bodyguard suit and looking all professional, because the cleaning service had arrived that day. Joffrey had hired some servants and maids and cooks to take care of the mansion while no one occupied it, and now that Sandor and Sansa were staying there they had come to clean up after them and prepare some food for the next days. Sandor had made sure to mess up his almost unused bedroom so that it seemed that he had been sleeping there. The staff hired by Joffrey would only be there some hours, but it felt like an eternity to Sandor. He couldn't wait for them to be gone and finally be able to jump over his little bird and attack her with passionate kisses all over her gorgeous body.

In order to not raise suspicion among the staff by following Sansa around the whole day like a lost puppy, Sandor occupied himself with some stuff during the first hours that they were there. The first thing he did was go to the security room, where all the monitors for the surveillance cameras and the tapes were located, and he took a look around. He should have done that the first day they were there, but he totally forgot.

As he had mentioned to Sansa some days ago, there were only two surveillance cameras in that mansion; one in the front gate, and one in the back gate that led to the backyard from outside. If he spoke the truth, that was one of the reasons why Sandor had chosen that mansion out if all the others that Joffrey possessed: the security was shit. Which meant less control on Sansa and her movements, and more privacy and chances to relax and enjoy for her. Sandor wasn't worried about the lack of security; he himself was enough security, and besides, Sapphire Isle was incredibly underpopulated. There was a town a couple miles away for where they were, and it was almost tiny. The biggest towns were in the other side of the island, mainly occupied by tourists. Sansa was perfectly fine in that mansion with Sandor, but he wanted to check the surveillance cameras to see if they had accidentally caught any of their... _extra activities_.

He was relieved when he saw that there was no way that the front gate camera had caught anything about them, other than the fact that they walked inside the mansion together when they arrived the first day. When he turned his attention to the monitor for the other camera, the one in the back gate, he found that, much to his surprise, the camera wasn't working. All that could be seen were black and white stripes. Sandor frowned and tried to turn the monitor in, but it wouldn't work, it was broken. He wondered how that had happened, and supposed that something must have broken it while everyone was away. After a few minutes he decided to forget all about it, but he would have to call at some point and request it to be fixed. He didn't really like the idea of almost no surveillance at all.

Later Sandor had taken care of some little things that he had found to do here and there, and then, after he could no longer find any excuse to be away from Sansa while the cleaning and cooking staff finished their job. So there he was, watching Sansa from the French windows, waiting for the other fuckers to finally leave. They should be done soon enough, and while he waited, Sandor decided to go back to the bar inside the mansion and pour himself a drink. He grabbed a bottle of wine and purred the dark red liquid into a cup, which he drank in one single gulp. He though about pouring himself a second cup, but decided against it and out the bottle away before returning to the backyard. He felt the urge to smoke to kill the boredom of the moment, but he cursed when he didn't find any cigars or even a lighter in his pockets.

He didn't have to wait much longer. The maids and servants and cooks hired by Joffrey started leaving one by one and one of them announced their departure. Sandor dismissed them, and felt a deep relief when they all finally left, and the house was again only for Sansa and him.

"Well," he rasped. "I guess those buggers won't be coming back anytime soon again..."

He had been facing the front gate while he spoke, and had turned his back on the backyard, so he didn't expect it when he turned around and he suddenly found Sansa running towards him. He could barely react before she happily jumped in his arms and threw her arms around his neck, and put her legs around his waist. Sandor was thrown a few steps back by the force of the impact, but he managed to keep standing on his feet and he immediately put his arms around Sansa, holding her tight against him. He laughed with her, sharing her joy over their regained liberty, and then he kissed her full in the mouth. Sansa squealed with delight and smiled against his mouth, and parted her lips for him when he licked them with his tongue. It was a long and passionate, intense, and deep kiss that did not end until they were both breathless and burning up.

When they parted from each other, their breathing was heavy. Sandor didn't know how he looked, but Sansa's face was completely blushed. It was in moments like those, when her face was of a deep pink color, that she looked half like a girl, a little bird, and half like the passionate grown woman that she really was. He loved it. Besides, her face matched her hair.

"I thought they would never leave!" she exclaimed then, still a bit breathless. She cupped his face with her hands, no longer putting her arms around his neck but not afraid of falling, she knew that she was completely safe in his arms. "You looked a bit impatient back there in the backyard. Where you mad that I was ignoring you?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, and Sansa grinned.

"You were. You were mad because I was all by myself, with my music and my sun, and I wasn't paying you any attention!"

"You prefer to think that I get mad over some egotistical reason, rather than believe that I was genuinely concerned about your skin's safety?"

"You don't strike me as a man that concerns about those things," she retorted teasingly.

"You have very beautiful skin. It would be a shame if you ended up looking like a cooked crab."

Sansa threw her head back and laughed harder than Sandor had ever heard her laugh. She laughed long and plenty, and it made Sandor smile satisfied. Making Sansa laugh like that was definitely a win.

"Cooked crab is not bad at all!" she chuckled then. "It's delicious. Have you ever tasted it?"

"I rather taste you," he said, with hungry eyes full of lust.

Sansa squealed once again an jumped from Sandor's arms, running around the room of the mansion, playfully getting away from Sandor. He rolled his eyes before setting off to chase after her around the main floor of the mansion, across all the rooms, until they ended up in the huge living room that was a mixture of modern and classic, and he managed to grab her by the waist and push her flat in her back on the couch.

Sandor jumped over her, careful not to crash her with the weight if his body. For several minutes they were a tangled mess if limbs, caressing and kissing each other like there was no tomorrow, and Sandor felt like a hormonal teenager all over again. Well, fuck it, it was well worth it!

The TV was on, and some music program was being broadcasted video clips. At that moment, the video clip that was showing was of some man with black hair and an excessive amount of make up, dressed in the most outrageous outfit that Sandor had ever seen. It kind of reminded him of the outfits that Renly Baratheon wore to parties when he was alive. Sandor didn't pay any attention to the video clip, he had just seen some details from the corner of his eye, and instead focused of kissing Sansa. She was a sight to be seen, covered only with a bikini and squirming under him, giggling when his lips kissed and bit and tickled the side of her neck.

"Sandor!" Sansa exclaimed, still giggling, when he lowered her head and buried his face in her bosom, kissing the top of her breasts.

"You are delicious, little bird..." he rasped, and his voice sounded muffled against her breasts. "I want you, all of you..."

He surrounded her small body with his arms and pressed her against him. Then he sat up on the couch and took Sansa with him, sitting her on his lap, with her legs at his sides. He continued kissing the top of her breasts, and his hands hungrily roamed all the bare skin of her body. Responding to his passionate affections, Sansa rocked her hips against his, feeling him hard through the thin layers of fabric that separated him from her. When Sansa did that, Sandor groaned. Satisfied with his response, Sansa rocked her hips against his again, making another groan escape his mouth.

"You'll be the death of me, Sansa..."

They continued their passionate kissing session on the couch. Sandor felt like he was about to explode, and he could feel that Sansa was on fire. He would have never, not ever in his life, thought that he could provoke such reaction on a woman like that. Sansa was everything that was out of his reach, everything that he had always known that he could never have. But there she was, all his. Even though he knew that would not be for long, the fact that Sansa was with him willingly, because she wanted to, was what made him feel like the luckiest bugger in the entire fucking world. What she had seen in him to make her want him, he didn't know.

His fingers found the lace of the too of her bikini in her back. He took one of them between his thumb and index finger and he pulled, making the lace come undone. Sansa gasped when she felt the too of her bikini being undone in the back, and she opened her eyes to look at Sandor, who was grinning with passion and lust shinning furiously in his grey eyes. There was still another lace in the back of Sansa's neck that held the bikini top in place, covering her breast. He had every intention of undoing that one too, and Sansa looked like she had every intention of letting him do it. However, he never got the chance to do it, because at that moment Sansa's stomach started growling like a dying whale.

Sansa gasped, surprised by the sudden interruption of her belly, and stared at Sandor with eyes wide as plates. She jumped on his lap when her belly started growling again, and after it had gone silent she started laughing. Despite she inconvenient interruption, Sandor smiled amused.

"The little bird is hungry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Red with embarrassment, Sansa nodded, but not before her tummy started growling again. Sandor was amazed that such a tiny belly could do so much noise. Sansa started cracking up and rolled off his lap, falling on her back on the couch. Sandor started laughing too, amused by everything, and he rubbed Sansa's belly playfully before standing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen, where the cooks had left food for an entire week.

While he was at the kitchen, putting some food in some dishes for Sansa, he heard the music get louder in the huge living room of the mansion. He frowned, wondering what Sansa was up to during his short absence. He found out when he returned to the living room. Sansa had tied the laces of her bikini again, fetched a light green cover up and put it on. She had turned the volume of the TV up so much that the music seemed deafening: she was now listening to some pop song sung by a blond woman that looked familiar to Sandor but he couldn't put a name to her face. Sansa was dancing around the living room and singing along some of the lyrics of the song. Sandor stared at her in silence, enjoying the view of her being so happy, and listening to her sing. Even though she was just singing a few lines at the too of her lungs at that moment, she still had a beautiful voice. Sandor remembered the first time that he had seen her when he had to act as her bodyguard during one of her concerts, and he recalled the way in which her voice had captivated him and caught him in a spell from which he could not escape. He had often desired to her her sing again; he had never enjoyed music very very much or cared about it, but Sansa's singing voice had caused the effect of a drug on him.

"Will you sing a song for me one day?" he asked, announcing his presence back in the living room.

Sansa stopped dancing and singing and jumping around and turned to face him. She was expressionless for a few seconds, just looking at him in silence. Then she smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Yes. Maybe someday I will."

That promise was good enough for him, and he liked seeing the way in which Sansa's cheeks started blushing after that for no reason. He took a few steps towards her and he kissed her briefly before giving her the plate full of food that he had taken from the kitchen for her.

"Here. I don't want you starving."

They sat together on the couch again, and Sandor lowered the sound of the TV and then watched as Sansa are the food that he had brought for her. She devoured it, but she kept her manners the whole time. She was really hungry.

"Fuck, girl, when was the last time you ate?" he asked, surprised by her hunger. It wasn't that late in the day to be that hungry, and he wasn't starving her!

"At breakfast," she said, shrugging and continuing to eat. "Are you not hungry?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I guess I wasn't eating very well before coming here. I'm making up for all the missing meals."

"Does your agent make you stay super thin for your damn job or what?"

"No, I'm naturally very thin. I just don't feel like eating with the Baratheons and the Lannisters every day," she responded, shrugging again.

"I don't blame you," he rasped.

They spent the next daylight hours talking. First, Sansa went upstairs to change into warmer clothes, because in the evening, although the sun was still up (it was February, but it was summer in the south of Westeros because it was located in the Southern Hemisphere) the breeze that came from the ocean was a bit cold. She returned downstairs with a normal white T-shirt and tight jeans and socks. Even in those clothes she was the most beautiful woman that Sandor had seen in his life, and her auburn hair seemed even brighter in contrast to the white fabric of her clothes.

She sat down comfortably on the couch and talked for hours about her childhood, and Winterfell, her home, and her family, and how her teenage years had been. Sandor believed her when she told him that she had been an insufferable spoiled brat, and when he told her so she pretended to be offended, grabbed a cushion of the sofa and hit him in the head with it. Sandor allowed her to hit him with the cushion, he didn't even feel it, and the little play fight amused him. He wasn't lying, he could perfectly imagine her as some little spoiled daddy's girl, even though now he could see that she wasn't like that anymore. Sansa laughed it off and then she told him about how her mother, Catelyn, had encouraged her to become a singer when she finished her studies (she had gone to college and had studied an English major before starting her music career) and had introduced her to an old friend of hers, who was now Sansa's agent. Though engaged to Joffrey, she had spent years stuck in recording studios and traveling around the world on tours and filming the movie that had made her get two Oscar nominations; she hadn't travelled to King's Landing until recently before her father died. She told Sandor about her brothers and her sister, and about how much she loved and missed them. By the time when she was done talking, Sandoe felt like he had known Sansa for an eternity, and he felt that he understood her a lot better. He also felt that she had been very happy before all that shit had come into her life and turned it upside down.

After telling her story, Sansa wanted to know his. Sandor had hesitated, because his life was not something that he usually talked about to anyone. But it was Sansa, she wasn't anyone. Besides, she had shared the story of her life with him, so he owed her a story in return.

Sandor had been born in a town right next to Lannisport, and his family had worked for the Lannisters, so he was constantly around them. He told Sansa that he had a brother, though she already knew that. He also told her that he had a younger sister, but he hadn't met her. His parents had decided to give her up for adoption for some reason when she was born, and Sandor had never had the opportunity to be an older brother. However, he always figured that his sister had been lucky, because life in the Clegane family wasn't happy. When Sandor was 10 his mother died of cancer, and when he was 12 his father had been killed in a car crash. His older brother Gregor had been in the car too, in the passenger seat, but he had survived. Sandor had always believed that Gregor had provoked the accident during one of his rage fits. He did not have a good relationship with his father, and Sandor suspected that during a fight in the car, Gregor had grabbed the steering wheel and made their father lose control of the vehicle, making it fall down the ravine. The fall had killed their father instantly and left the car in a catastrophic state. Gregor had miraculously survived with only a broken arm, some broken ribs, a broken leg, some bruises and cuts all over his body, but it was nothing compared to what should have really happened to him. He had been fucking lucky, and Sandor hated him for it.

He had absolutely no repairs telling Sansa exactly how much he hated Gregor. He had hated him since he was a little kid, first because of the beatings, and later because of what happened to his face. Sansa already knew that Gregor was guilty for Sandor's scars, but she did not know why exactly he was guilty. Sandor told her. He told her how, when he was seven years old, he had been near a gas station with his family. His parents had gone away to but some stuff and pay for the gasoline that they had just put inside the car, and they had left Sandor and Gregor alone in the car. Gregor was not a patient boy back then, just as he wasn't a patient man in the present, and he had gone out of the car. Sandor had followed him to tell him to come back, because he was going to get in trouble if he left and left his little brother alone. Sandor was naive enough back then to try and avoid a future quarrel between his brother and his parents. Gregor had been playing with a lighter that he had stolen from their father, and Sandor asked him to put it away before their dad came back and got mad. Instead of putting the lighter away, Gregor had grabbed the gasoline hose and swung it in Sandor's direction. A few drops of gasoline had fallen on Sandor's face, and when he complained about it, Gregor had lit the lighter and he had thrown it against Sandor's face. Because of the gasoline, the side of his face immediately caught fire. His screams alerted their parents and the people from the gas station, who had run towards him and put out the fire as fast as they could outing bottles of water on him, but the damage had been very extensive. Everybody thought that it had just been an accident and that Gregor hadn't hurt his brother on purpose, though Sandor always thought that his parents knew that that was a lie but they didn't dare to say anything against their eldest son.

Sandor knew that Sansa had been scared of Gregor the first time that she saw him, back in the Lannister mansion of Casterly Rock, but what he saw in her eyes wasn't just fear: it was pure horror and terror. She stared at him wide-eyed and with a hand out over her mouth to cover her horrified expression. Two horrified tears fell from her eyes, and after a few seconds she moved from her side to the sofa towards where Sandor was sitting and threw her arms around him in a protective and comforting embrace. Sandor closed his eyes and accepted her hug, grateful that someone finally cared about him after all that time.

"I'm so sorry..." Sansa whispered. "He's a monster."

"He is," he nodded with a barely audible voice.

He told her what had happened later in is life. He had been put in some foster families at first before the Lannisters took him in, and later he went to boot camp and became a fine and fierce soldier. At the young age of 21 he had impressed the Lannisters and had been hired by Cersei Lannister. He became Joffrey's bodyguard and more or less his babysitter, and here he was now.

Sansa listened to him finishing his story, and Sandor noticed how quiet she was and how deep in thought she seemed to be. He wanted to know what was going through her mind, and then he realized that they both had tragic at some point of their stories. Gregor was the monster in his story, and Joffrey was the monster in her story. They both were afraid of someone that had taken so much from them and hurt them so much. If he thought about it, Sansa and him were much more similar than he originally thought they would be.

Sansa caressed his cheek with his thumb and then, without notice, she placed a gentle kiss on Sandor's burn cheek. He stiffened, completely taken by surprise by that sudden and unexpected action, and he stared at Sansa in awe after she slowly leaned back from him. He expected to see disgust and revulsion on her face after having done that, but he found none of it. It was as if the skin she had just kissed what normal instead of leather-hard, blackened, and cratered. Sandor had to admit that, with each passions minute, his admiration for Sansa Stark only grew more and more.

"Did you ever try to find your sister?" Sansa asked shyly, wondering if it was maybe improper to ask that question.

Sandor sighed and shook his head lightly.

"No. Why would I do it! She's better off wherever she is, not knowing what hell of a shithole she escaped from," he rasped. Truth was, he had never even thought about looking for her, not even when he felt more lonely than ever. He didn't want to drag some innocent person into his world and open her eyes to the horror that her biological family was.

"I would do whatever I could to be able to see my sister again," Sansa whispered with deep sadness.

 _The shooter_ , Sandor recalled, remembering the small woman with short brown hair and grey _ey_ es with a gun that had tried to blow Joffrey's brains all over the steps of the Sept of Baelor. _Only the gods know what the fuck drove that girl to try something so stupid!_

They stood there in silence for some time, with their energy drained after sharing their stories. Sandor didn't regret any of it, because now he felt a much deeper connection with Sansa, a connection that not even sleeping with her a thousand times could create, and he was grateful for that connection. He felt like he had something now, something that definitely only belonged to him and no one else. He had a piece of Sansa's soul, and she had a piece of his. Instead of cursing himself for thinking like a bloody romantic old stupid dog, he thought that he really enjoyed the feeling of freedom that that conversation had brought to him, he hadn't realized until them how much it hurt to hold things in for a long time.

The sky was already dark outside, and it was covered with bright stars all over it. Because the nearest town was very small and a couple of miles away, there want light pollution around there and the stars could be seen perfectly, unlike in the capital where the sky was always pitch black and lifeless. They had turned the TV off, so they could hear the crickets in the backyard and the sound of the distant waves in the beach.

They say there with their arms around each other for a while longer, lost in their thoughts, until the peace was broken by the sound of a motorcycle approaching the mansion. At first they ignored it, but then the noise because louder until it suddenly stopped. Some seconds later, the bell of the main door of the mansion rang.

"Maybe the people that were here before forgot something?" Sansa asked, wondering who could be ringing the bell at that time and that place. No one else knew there were there! A sudden panic took over her expression. "Maybe Joffrey had sent something for me already?"

"No, I don't think so," Sandor rasped, taking his arms away from around Sansa's body and standing up on the couch.

He left the living room, unaware that he was being closely followed by Sansa, and he looked through the peephole before opening the door. Outside was a man with red and white hair, talk and tan, dressed as a pizza deliverer and holding a box. He looked extremely bored. Sandor frowned when he saw him.

"What the fuck?" he murmured before opening the door after the man insisted and rang the bell a second time. After opening the door, Sandor glared at the man.

"Sandor Clegane?" the man asked before Sandor could say anything. He had a strong foreign accent that made Sandor drown even more.

"Who's asking?"

"No one, I'm just delivering the order."

"I didn't order any fucking pizza."

"It says right here that you did."

"Bugger off."

"Sandor, don't be rude!" Sansa exclaimed, scandalized by his use of vulgar language in front of other people. It was just then that Sandor realized that the girl had been hiding behind him.

_Oh, for fuck's sake!_

"Go back inside, girl," he said. He didn't want to say her name in front of the man for fear that he then might recognize her, either for her political connections of for her fame as a singer, and then they would be fucked because Sandor wasn't about to tolerate fanboys. Or fan _men_ , in that case, because the man seemed to be in his thirties.

The pizza deliverer had noticed Sansa indeed.

"You look familiar," he said then with his strong accent.

Oh, fuck, here we go… Sandor thought, waiting for the man to suddenly ask for her autograph or something.

He did nothing of the sorts.

"You remind me of a friend of mine," the man said, much to Sandor and Sansa's surprise. He narrowed his eyes with interest as he stared at Sansa, still holding the box of pizza in his hands. "She's a very funny girl. Very short too, she doesn't look like you in that aspect, but she is very pretty. She had a nickname when she was younger, though… _Underfoot_ , I think it was."

Sansa gasped all of a sudden and covered her mouth with her hand in shock. Sandor didn't understand what was so shocking about what the man had said, but again he didn't have time to ask any questions, because he saw that the man had put his index finger over his lips, asking for silence. Sansa slowly lowered her hand again and tried to maintain a neutral expression. The man lowered his finger from his lips and searched for something in his pocket, a paper, which he then handed over to Sandor. It was a receipts for the pizza, and Sandor recognized the name of the only pizza place in the town a couple miles away. But then he looked better and sew that there was something handwritten in the receipt.

**_Are there are micros or bugs around here?_ **

He had no fucking idea what that was all about. All his instincts as a bodyguard and as a rational man told him to push Sansa back inside the house and slam the door in the man's face. But when he saw the pleasing look in Sansa's eyes he knew that she knew something about the man that he did not.

No, there weren't any listening devices around there, but there was a fucking camera in the front gate. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head to answer the man's question. It was clear by now to Sandor that that man was no pizza delivered. What bugged him was the connection that that man somehow had with Sansa. What was going on?

"I'm going to meet my friend tonight, you know? She's waiting for me not far from here. She wants me to reunite her with some people... I hope they can come," the man said very casually, like he was just doing some small talk while he waited for the payment for the pizza. "She will be really disappointed if they don't show up."

Sandor gave him a bill for the pizza, to pretend in front of the surveillance camera. Then he took the pizza box and retreated back inside the house, taking Sansa with him.

"Have a good night, Miss Stark," the mysterious man said before Sandor closed the door in his face.

Both him and Sansa stood in silence for a couple of seconds until they heard the man driving off in the same motorcycle in which he had arrived there, and then Sansa gasped again.

"Oh my God!"

"Can you explain to me what the fuck was that, Sansa?"

"My sister!" she almost screamed.

_What?_

"Underfoot! That was my sister's nickname when she was little! Some mean kids from out neighborhood have it to her, they were my friends at the time, but... Oh, whatever, give me that!"

She snatched the pizza box from Sandor's hands and opened it. Inside they didn't find a pizza, but what they did find was an envelope. Sansa quickly grabbed it and threw the cardboard box to the floor, and she opened the envelope. Sandor tried to stop her.

"Sansa, wait!"

"I can't, Sandor, he knows my sister!"

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do! He knew her nickname! He knew who I was! Don't you get it, Sandor?! My sister is here!"

"It's impossible. It's ridiculous! How would your sister-"

Sansa wasn't listening to him. She opened the envelope that she had found inside the cardboard pizza box, and she took a letter from inside of it. It was handwritten, and as soon as she saw it she gasped again.

"It's... It's Arya's handwriting..." she said with a trembling voice.

Sandor guessed that Sansa would recognize her own sister's handwriting and wouldn't be wrong about it, so he shut up and read the letter over Sansa's shoulder. It was hard to read it at first because Sansa's hands were shaking so much, but he held them with his own big and steady hands and helped her hold the letter so that they both could read it.

**_Dear Sansa,_ **

**_I'm in Sapphire Isle. I want to see you, there is much that I have to tell you, much that you have to understand. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but this will be our only chance to meet and be able to do this. Trust Jaqen, he is a good friend. Bring Clegane with you, you will probably need him. Jaqen will be waiting for you a midnight a mile north from the mansion._ **

**_If Sansa is not reading this, Clegane, and you do not show it to her, know that if you don't bring my sister to me by midnight I will suppose that you have decided to keep this a secret from her, this you are not worth trusting. I have reasons to believe you are a man that can be trusted, but my mind can easily be changed on that matter. Don't try to call the Lannisters, because we will get to you first._ **

**_I really hope things don't have to get to that._ **

**_Good luck Sansa, and I'm looking forward to finally see you again. I'll explain everything, I promise. You will be safe._ **

**_In case you are wondering, this is not a trap._ **

**_ A.S _ **

After finishing reading the letter, Sansa folded it. Silence reigned between her and Sandor before Sandor rasped:

"You are not going."

"Oh yes _, I am_ ," Sansa muttered, walking away from him and running up the stairs.


	17. Down the Rabbit Hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I seriously have no idea how this chapter ended up being so damn long. Seriously, this chapter was supposed to be 4000 words long, tops. And it ended up being 11000+, I don't even know how. Where did the words go?! I don't get it!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy my lengthy chapter. It's one I've been waiting to write for long ago, and even thought it turned out a bit different than expected, I guess I'm happy with the result.
> 
> Ignore grammar mistakes, it's my autocorrect trolling me. And I'm so overly tired, it's not even funny. My eyes are all messed up! But oh well xD anyways, the mistakes will be fixed later, promise!
> 
> Enjoy! I will go back to more cozy SanSan fluff later, it's time for some other kind of stuff now for a little bit.
> 
> Btw, Jaqen speaks in a normal way in this fic because the whole "a man this, a man that," is for other situations.

As soon as Sansa started running up the stairs of the mansion towards her bedroom, Sandor started running behind her.

"Sansa!" he called her. "You are not going!"

"Yes I am!" she insisted, entering her bedroom and running towards her closet to take out some shoes and a jacket from it. She sat on the bed while she put on and laced her boots.

"It's a trap."

"No it's not. That's my sister's handwriting, and she wants me to go and see her. She's here, Sandor! She's finally here, after so long… I didn't even know if she was alive, I need to know what happened to her!"

"It's her handwriting alright, but have you forgotten what happened the last time you saw your dear sister? She tried to kill a man in front of thousands of people," Sandor rasped, remembering how he had pushed joffrey out of the bullet's way. "Only a very skilled assassin could have pulled off that kind of shot, Sansa."

"So?" she asked. She was now putting on a black jacket to protect her from the cold night breeze.

"You know she had more than enough reasons for what she did," Sansa hissed, silencing Sandor. He hadn't hear her talk in such an aggressive tone in quite some time, since before they got to the island, and it took him by surprise to hear the anger and the distress mixed in in her voice. "I don't care about what you do tonight, but I have finally received news from my sister that come directly from her reaching out to me, instead of... Instead of because I saw her in some back street of King's Landing, carrying a gun and getting into a car after attempting murder. You can stay here if you want.

"I won't let you alone, and I won't let you go either."

"And how are you going to stop me?"

"That won't be difficult," he warned her, and she sighed defeated.

"Sandor, please!" she begged, and her eyes started to be filled by tears. She was angry and happy at the same time, sad and excited, relieved and mortified. It was the strangest thing that Sandor had ever done, and yet he was having a lot of difficulties keeping saying no to Sansa. It was something that he just had forgotten how to do since they were in that place, and se had never ever before begged for something like how she she was begging at that moment.

She was just told him the story of her family not even an hour ago. He had listened with interest as she told him stories or her sister Arya, the same one that had tried to kill Joffrey and was now trying to reunite with Sansa. She must have spied on Joffrey after her failed attempt at killing him and discovered that Sansa had left with Sandor to Tarth, and then she must have followed them there. Sandor knew that Sansa deserved to see someone from her family again, and he wanted to give in to what she asked from him, but it wasn't so easy. Who the fuck knew what the younger Stark's intentions where?!

"What if they made her write the note?" he asked then, trying to make the little bird see why it was a bad idea to do what the note said.

She looked at it for only one second and shook her head.

"No. Trust me, Sandor, I know what I'm saying. We will be safe!"

She sounded so convinced. But how could it be true? Everything was just too bloody strange and made him feel uneasy. He didn't trust that man that had come to deliver the message, he didn't trust the damn message, he sure as hell didn't trust the little Stark psychopath that had written the message, and he doubted that he could trust Sansa's judgement.

"You are just emotional right now, you are not thinking clearly," he rasped, trying to make her understand him and his worry for that whole situation. "You want to walk straight into the wolf's den!"

Sansa scoffed.

"I'm not afraid of wolves," she said. "And besides, I'm in a lion's den already, what's the difference?"

"I'm not going to let you get killed!"

"No I won't. And if anything had happens, I know you won't let anyone hurt me, you promised," she said, walking up to him and taking his hand between hers. She lifted his hand and tenderly kissed it, and then she put it against her cheek and closed her eyes. Sandor felt like he was melting. How could he say no to her? He couldn't. And maybe she knew that already. "Sandor, please..."

"Sansa..."

"You read the note. If we are not there by midnight they will come for us, and they will hurt you."

"Let them try."

"Sandor, please!" she begged again, and a tear ran down her cheek and fell on Sandor's hand.

He wanted to pick her up and lock her in a room until he could knock some sense into that stubborn head of hers, but he knew that would be no good and would help him in nothing. For a couple of silent seconds he contemplated his options, finding them extremely limited. Fuck.

He sighed and ran his other hand over his face, trying to make a decision. He tried to avoid staring into Sansa's eyes, because he knew that those blue celestial pools would defeat him more easily than any deadly weapon.

 _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ he grunted in his mind before rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Fine!" he exclaimed. Sansa had won, he couldn't deny her going to see her sister, not when she was looking at him with eyes filled with so much sorrow after being separated from her family for so long. Even though Sandor had succeeded in avoiding looking at her eyes, her presence alone was just as overwhelming for him as her stare. She wasn't sobbing, but he could feel her pain just as well as if she had been crying her eyes out. "Follow me. I need to figure out a way of getting out of this fucking mansion."

Sansa's eyes lit up immediately after he said those words, and a radiant smile appeared on her face. Sandor sighed when he saw that smile, and he hoped for both their sakes that what happened later tonight was worth that smile. If anything went wrong, just as he believed from the beginning and still suspected, he would not forgive himself. Lately he was being an idiot and a fool in a lot of things, but he couldn't really help it.

He tried to think positive. It was the little bird's sister that they were going to see, she wouldn't hurt Sansa.

Just in case, he wanted to be ready. He had promised Sansa that he would keep her safe no matter what, and that was what he was going to do.

He left the bedroom with Sansa walked behind him and went to his bedroom, or at least the bedroom that was supposed to be his before he started sharing Sansa's bed every night. He walked to the furniture, opened one of the drawers and took his gun from out of it. It was completely loaded, but Sandor took extra bullets in case they were necessary at some point, which he hoped not. He put the gun in his belt, and turned around to find Sansa staring at him scared. He frowned.

"What?"

"You are taking the gun?"

"Of course I am!" he grunted. "The last time I saw that crazy sister of yours, she was carrying a gun fucking bigger than her. I'm not taking any chances of being unarmed in her presence."

"But... maybe the gun will provoke her," Sansa murmured, biting her lip with worry.

"Then you are admitting that she is dangerous."

"No. Well, maybe, but she's not a threat to me, I've already told you that she would never hurt me, and she says that she thinks that she can trust you. But the men that are with her might be different."

Right, those guys. Sandor remembered the men that had been waiting for Arya Stark in the SUV parked in the streets of King's Landing, and wondered how many " _friends_ " there were going to be there with her while she had her little reunion with her older sister. He knew for sure that the pizza guy, the one with the fucking stupid red and white hair (the letter said his name was Jaqen?) was going to be there. He didn't look particularly dangerous to Sandor, but he knew better than to judge people by their appearance. He hoped that there would only be that man there and that was it.

"Precisely because your dear sister is not going to be there alone is why I'm taking the gun," he said, and then he grabbed a flashlight and told Sansa to move and get out of the bedroom. They walked down the stairs and Sansa followed him to the French windows that led to the backyard of the mansion.

"How are we going to get out?" Sansa asked. "I know that we can't walk through the front door because there's a camera there, right? Joffrey could find out and ask questions..."

"That's why we are not going through the front door."

"But isn't a camera in the back too?" Sansa asked, worried.

"Yes, but it isn't working," Sandor answered, recalling that morning when he had go to the surveillance room and the monitor hadn't been working, and he hadn't been able to fix it. "But the back hate has a sensor, and I don't have the fucking code to turn it off. If we open the door even an inch, the alarm will go off and we will have the cops on us in a minute. And believe me, then Joffrey will fucking know what we were up to."

"Then what are we going to do?!" Sansa exclaimed, still following him as he crossed the backyard towards the walls that surrounded the mansion and the garden and kept the place isolated from the outside.

Sandor shook his head, pointing towards the eight feet talk wall. Sansa immediately understood what he meant by that.

"You want us to jump over that?"

"Aye. It's easy! And the camera can't record is, so it's all good."

Sansa hesitated, but she didn't say anything. They reached the wall together, and that was when she protested, looking up at the wall that was way taller than her.

"Sandor, I can't!" she cried, alarmed at the height of the wall. It wasn't that tall, really, for a jump, or at least it wasn't for Sandor. But if Sansa fell from that height she would be hurt, that was for sure.

"Yes you can, little bird, I'm here to help you," if they were going to so that stupidity that they were doing, at least Sandor was going to make sure that they finished what they had started, and he wasn't going to let Sansa give up at that moment. It would be easy to turn around and walk away and forget about everything, but he knew that they would regret that decision later in some way or another. "Here, climb on my shoulders. Just sit on them."

He bend his knees to lower himself to the ground and allow Sansa to sit on his shoulders. Again, she hesitated, but after a couple of seconds she did as he told her and sat on his shoulders. She was so light weight that Sandor almost didn't feel the extra weight, and he had no trouble at all carrying her. Before getting back up he grabbed her long legs with his big hands to keep her in place and make sure she didn't fall. She gasped when he stood up again, shocked by the sudden ascent to a greater height than her own, and she accidentally grabbed a lock of Sandor's hair and pulled from it when she held on to the first thing that she could find, afraid that she would back backwards. Sandor hissed and she let go of him.

"Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it... Now you have to get up on the wall, Sansa. It's ok, I got you. I got you."

Feeling more confident thanks to his assurance, Sansa put her hands on the too of the wall, which was wide enough for her to sit on it and not fall down to the other side, and with Sandor's help she moved from his shoulder to the top of the wall. He grabbed her waist with his hands and held her up as she held on to the wall and pushed herself up to climb to the top. Because Sandor was very tall, almost seven feet, and Sansa was talk as well, doing that wasn't very difficult.

It was Sandor's turn now. Even though the wall was only a feet taller than him, he needed to jump in order to be able to hold on well enough to be able to sit on it. She gained some impulse and then jumped, holding on with his arms to the top of the wall and pushing himself up with his feet on the wall, and in a second he was sitting next to Sansa. He met her eyes with a smile.

"Good. Now let's get down."

The smile disappeared from Sansa's face, and she looked down, turning pale. The distance from there to the floor seemed a lot greater.

"It's okay, Sansa," Sandor assured her again, and she nodded.

"I know, I just don't like heights. But I know. Can you go first? You can catch me when I jump."

"Aye."

With little effort, Sandor jumped from the top of the wall and landed on the ground outside the mansion. He looked up to look at Sansa and held his arms up, waiting for her to jump so that he could catch her. He didn't want her spraining her ankle or something in the fall. He didn't have to say anything to her that time, she already knew what to do. She slides off from the too of the wall and fell down into Sandor's waiting arms, but her elbow accidentally hit him and threw him off balance. He fell on his back on the floor, taking Sansa with him. He grunted, and she squealed.

Even though he had fell on his back and the impact against the ground was hard, he didn't let go of Sansa. His strong arms held him tight against his chest, preventing her from rolling off him and falling to the ground too. Her body was pressed against his and he could feel her heavy breathing. Sansa's face had ended up being too close to Sandor's, and they could feel each other's breaths. Sansa's eyes peeked at his lips for a brief moment before looking back as his eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You are welcome," he replied, lifting his hand to move a red stand of hair away from her face and put it behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin while he did so. His eyes moved to her lips just like hers had done seconds ago. "Do I get a kiss for saving you?"

Sansa smiled and slowly shook her head.

"You'll get your kiss after I see my sister."

Sandor grunted in protest but Sansa ignored him. She pushed herself up to her feet and then Sandor did the same. He looked at her while she stepped the dirt off the bottom of her pants, and then he inspected the surroundings. It was very dark there, because there weren't any neighbor mansions or houses around; there was only the road that led to the town at one side and to the airport at the other side, and the only light came from the streetlights at it's side and the moonlight from the sky.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked, looking around as well. "Are we following the road?"

"No. It would be safer, but the letter says to go two miles North. The road would lead us somewhere else before we reach the meeting point, it doesn't go straight." He took the flashlight that he had grabbed before in his bedroom out of his pocket and he held it up and turned it on to get rid of the darkness in front of him.

Even with the flashlight it was very difficult to see, because there was vegetation everywhere.

"Sansa, don't get too far away from me. The last thing I fucking need is that you get lost in here," he said, and he started to walk. Sansa was behind him, so he couldn't see her but he could actually hear her steps on the ground. She followed him in silenced, staying close to him just like he had said. Apart from the sound of their footsteps there was little to hear, except for the crickets and nocturnal birds and the breeze moving the leaves of the trees above them. He smirked. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Why would I be afraid?" Sansa asked then behind him, and he shrugged.

"Didn't they tell you stories when you were little? About ghosts and monsters that stalk little girls in the night?"

"I'm not a little girl!" Sansa exclaimed.

"Well, the monsters that stalk grown women like you are much worse," he grunted.

"I'm not afraid," she retorted. "The darkness doesn't scare me. Not anymore."

"Is that so? Why?" he wanted to know. "Don't you believe in ghosts anymore? And fierce monsters that are eager to take a bite of you and drag you into the night with them?"

"No," she responded firmly. "I've got you with me. What is there to be afraid of, then?"

He was surprised by her answer, and he felt pride and worry filling him up inside at the same time. He was proud because the little bird felt safe with him, when she couldn't be safe anywhere else. But he felt worry precisely because of the same reason. If she felt safe with him, did she expect him to be able to protect her at all times? He had promised her that he would keep her safe, and he had every intention of keeping the promise. But what would happen if any day he couldn't be there, if she needed him and he wasn't there to safe her? He didn't have enough power to create a perfect fucking happy world for her forever. Once they were out of Tarth and thrown back into the real world again, how could she still feel safe with him? And even if the Lannisters were the real enemy in King's Landing, Sandor was no piece of jewelry.

 _What if I'm a worse monster than all the others?_ he wanted to say, but he never got to do so because before any words could escape his mouth, Sansa's hands reached out to him and took his arm.

She held on to him, and Sandor turned his head to stare at her. His gaze was met by a shy and little smile on Sansa's perfect face, and her eyes were full of hope and trust. He sighed and didn't say anything, and Sansa just got closer to him while he led them through the woods of the island.

By midnight, they started arriving at the meeting point where the letter had told them to be. Before they got there Sandor was forced to free his arm from Sansa's hands and take the flashlight with his left hand, while his right hand was ready to take out his gun at any moment and shoot if need be. He wasn't going to take any more risks than the ones he was already taking.

"Okay, little bird, we are almost there..." he rasped. "This better be fucking worth it."

"It will, Sandor," she murmured, though her voice was trembling. Maybe she was starting to have doubts? "You'll see, everything will be fine."

"I hope you are right, Sansa, because if not we are fucked."

 _Of all the bad ideas I've had in my life, this is the dumbest fucking one,_ was his last thought as he and Sansa walked into the clearing where they had been cited.

They stopped they and waited, looking around while they waited for Sansa's sister or anyone else to show up. The woods had become awfully quiet there, and not even the crickets and the creatures that roamed the darkness could be heard. There was not a sound. Sandor felt Sansa clutching his arm tightly, perhaps finally intimidated by the darkness that engulfed them and the silence that fell over them. He heard her heavy breathing and he could swear that he could even feel her shaking. He wanted to soothe her and tell her that everything was okay, but he didn't want to make any sound. Instead he looked at her briefly and gave her a quiet but clear nod that she could see thanks only to the moonlight, because he had turned off the flashlight in case they attracted any unwanted attention; that nod was meant to assure her that everything would be fine, he wanted to transmit to her the same security that she had given him when they were leaving the mansion.

"You came."

A stranger's voice broke the silence of the night, startling them. Sandor grabbed his gun but didn't take it out of the belt, and he search everywhere around him to see where that voice came from and who it belonged to. He didn't find anyone until he heard the voice again, and this time he easily recognized that it came not from around him, but from above.

"I definitely didn't expect you to do it," the man that was speaking was right over their heads, standing on the branch of one of the trees that surrounded the clearing. He was standing on his feet like a cat, with his arms folded and looking down at them.

Sandor narrowed his eyes, trying to see the man better, but he only got a glimpse of red hair. He turned on his flashlight again and directed the light towards the man, and found that it was the pizza delivery guy. The man wasn't wearing his stupid uniform anymore and instead wore black clothes that made him almost invisible in the dark of the night, and made him definitely look more menacing. Sandor felt uneasy in his presence, specially because of the smirk that had appeared in the man's face upon seeing them there, and he pushed Sansa behind her to hide and shield her with his massive body.

"Why did you think we wouldn't come?" Sandor asked, not sounding the least bit intimidated by the man. On the contrary, his rasp was just as menacing and aggressive as always.

The man shrugged.

"You gave me the impression of being a man with common sense," was the simple answer, and Sandor scoffed.

"So you thought that I would think that this was only a trap?"

"Yes."

"So what, then? Was I right or no?"

The man's smirk widened, clearly amused by Sandor's aggressive tone. He raised an eyebrow before saying:

"So you _did_ think this was a trap."

"I am a man with common sense."

"Not when it comes to women, you are not," the man said, shooting an amused look at Sansa, who was still hiding behind Sandor but was sneaking a peek from his side. "You've chosen a very dangerous woman to mess with, surrounded by very dangerous people. That is not a lot of common sense, in my honest opinion."

"Who the fuck asked you for your fucking opinion?" Sandor growled, irritates by the man's words. He took a step forward and clenched his jaw. "Come down from that buggering branch and we'll see if you are a brave man as well as one with fucking common sense," he spat.

"Sandor," Sansa whispered behind him. She pulled from his arm, trying to prevent him from doing something stupid. Up in the branch the man (who was clearly the Jaqen mentioned in the letter) scoffed.

"I don't have time to lose, big man, and neither do you. I have to take you to the Stark girl, and you have to go back to that pretty mansion of yours before Governor Baratheon finds out about your little trip."

He jumped from the branch and landed graciously on his feet, like a cat. Sandor and Sansa observed him better then, paying attention to the way in which his dark clothes did make him in fact almost invisible. The only thing that betrayed his presence was his pale skin and his bright red and white hair, which was like fire and ice on his hair beneath the moonlight. Jaqen greeted Sansa with a polite nod of his head to which she shyly responded, and he ignored Sandor. Not that he fucking cared anyways, he didn't like that man and he couldn't wait until the moment when he didn't have to see him again. While Sandor glared at him, Jaqen lowered his grey-blue eyes to Sandor's belt, where his hand was ready to take action in any minute.

"I wouldn't take that out if I were you," he murmured. "My friends don't like people who aren't very friendly... Carrying weapons is not a good thing."

"Fuck that, I bet you are loaded with weapons."

Jaqen grinned. His face was charming just as it was cold at the same time.

"A host always has to take care of his guests and make sure they are safe. You are our guests now. Carrying our own weapons is the way of making sure you are safe..."

"Yeah? Well, Sansa is my guest, and I'll fucking protect her as well. I'm not letting go of my fucking gun."

The man signaled them with a movement of his head to follow him, and so they did when he started walking and leading the way out of the clearing. Sandor didn't know where he was taking them, and he didn't ask questions. He just followed that man, Jaqen, in silence and checked the whole time on Sansa to make sure that she was alright. When he noticed that she was starting to be cold he stopped holding the gun and left it in the belt so that he could safely put his arms around Sansa and keep her close to his body, giving her at least a bit warmth. She shuddered at first but then she looked up at him and smiled gently. The look in her eyes was questioning, clearly afraid at the same time as excited by what was about to happen. It was understandable, her sister had disappeared off the face of the Earth after her father's murder, and she was just now finally being able to see her. Sandor understood that Sansa hadn't been able to think of anything else besides the possibility of seeing her sister when she made the decision to do what the letter say and force Sandor to go with her. Sandor didn't feel any family love with any relatives, nor had he ever felt something similar to sibling love ever in his life, but he could comprehend the pain that Sansa had been feeling during that tragic year, and he felt happy that she could finally have some relief. The fact that the man hadn't attacked them yet, when he clearly could have done it long ago, have him some comfort and he started convincing himself that everything was definitely going to be alright.

After seeing that look in her face, Sandor tried to cheer her up.

"We are almost there, little bird."

"I know, but..." she said, taking a deep breath, "I'm scared..."

"I know. Don't be afraid. You feel fear because you are almost there and you feel that you are not going to make it, but you will."

"Maybe not. Maybe I should have listened to you. What if they hurt you?"

Suddenly Sansa sounded very anxious. It felt like she was about to turn around and run away all the way back to the mansion, but Sandor grabbed her arm to hold her in place, careful to not hurt her. He made her look at him.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, little bird," he said.

"He's right, girl," Jaqen said then, looking back to stare at them. "If your sister wanted him dead, he would already be, there'd be no need for all this."

Though she wants very sure about it, Sansa didn't protest anymore and continued walking with both men in the direction that Jaqen was taking them. It wasn't long till they started hearing a rumbling noise that became stronger and stronger as they kept walking, and they soon found that they had arrived to a small lake with a waterfall. Tarth was famous for the impressive blue color of its water, which was still just as beautiful in the dark of the night, but the moonlight have it a silver glow that made it appear like an image taken straight out from a fairy take. Sandor hated fairy tales, but he guessed that Sansa, even though she was a grown adult, loved them. He confirmed that when she was the dreamt look of awe in her face and all her worries gone. Some fireflies flies around the place, making it seem even more magical than it already was, and even Sandor had to admit that it was a beautiful scenario. Of only he could have enjoyed with Sansa in more private and less urgent circumstances, maybe he would like it even more.

"Where are we going?" Sansa asked then to the red and white haired man, who pointed with a finger towards the waterfall.

"There's a cave behind it," he said. "We have to cross it."

"Are you crazy?" Sandor snapped, but before he got an answer Jaqen whistled. After a couple of seconds three ropes came flying out from behind the waterfall, splashing water all around, and landed on the edge of the lake at their feet.

Jaqen grabbed two of the ropes and threw then to Sandor, who caught them easily.

"Tie them around you. Like that the force of the water won't carry you away."

Sandor tied Sansa's rope first. He made sure that it was right enough and that it wouldn't let go of her, but at the same time he was careful not to hurt her with it. She murmured a soft "thank you" and then he tied his own rope. Jaqen had already also tied his own rope around his waist, and when he saw that they were ready to go he whistled a second time.

For a couple of second nothing happened, and then all of a sudden someone pulled from the ropes from behind the tall waterfall. Sansa gasped, taken by surprise because of the pull, and she squealed when they stepped inside the lake and got soaked. Sandor even cursed under his breath; the water was fucking freezing! No one could protest much more, because soon they were completely submerged in the water and mere seconds later they were under the waterfall. The force of the impacting water that fell on them was indeed very strong, and it pulled all three of them underwater and moved and tossed them around. Sandor reached out and took Sansa's hand in his, refusing to let her go and drown or hit herself against a rock or something. Once he had her had in his he tried to swim to the surface; there was no need for it, because immediately whoever was at the other end of the ropes started pulling again and took them to the surface again. When Sansa's head came out of the water she started coughing and Sandor patted her gently in the back a few times until she stopped. He out his arm around her waist and swam to take them both out of the water. He barely noticed that couples of stranger hands grabbed them and helped them get out of the water until they were standing in a firm rock floor.

Sandor pulled Sansa into a embrace, covering as much of her as he could with his body to try and give her a little bit of warmth. She was shaking terribly because of the stupid water, and the last thing Sandor needed was her catching pneumonia. The same strange hands that had helped them threw some blankets over their shoulders, and Sandor helped Sansa wrap herself in her blankets. Ignoring her protests he took one of his blanket off and added it to Sansa's blankets. Sandor was stronger and tougher, he knew that Sansa needed it more.

"Are you ok?"

"Y-yes," she said before turned her head to the side to look around, and Sandor did the same.

They were standing in a huge cave that was lit up everywhere by people carrying torches and fires made in the ground with dry wood. The people were dressed with black clothes, just as Jaqen, but their faces were covered with black and white featureless masks. Truth be told, they were spooky and weird-menacing looking, specially because they were all also carrying weapons of all kinds. They were all looking at the newcomers, and Sandor glared at them, silently daring them to do anything to his little bird. He didn't care if he was outnumbered, he would rip them all apart.

He couldn't help but wonder why all those people were there, and who the fuck they were. They definitely didn't look like the kind of people that a Stark should be hanging out with, but they did seem to provide an explanation for Arya Stark's latest murderous tendencies.

Jaqen looked somewhere at the back of the cave, where it was dark.

"I've brought them."

No one moved at first or even made a sound. All the masked people looked at the newcomers with their faces still hidden behind the mask, and the torches they held cast sinister shadows onto the rock walls of the cave. Sansa shivered at Sandor's side, frightened. None of them were expecting to find such a large group of people, and the creepy masks weren't helping.

 _What the fuck is this place?_ Sandor muttered in his mind, trying to figure out in what kind of shit had the younger Stark sister gotten herself involved with.

Then, the masked people that were directly in front of them stepped to the side, letting another masked person that had been standing in the back walk to the front. That person was shorter than the rest, and Sandor could tell that it was a woman. Sansa gasped at his side, immediately recognizing her sister even though she couldn't see her face.

"Arya!" she cried.

Arya didn't slow ledge her sister back immediately. It wasn't even clear of she was looking at Sansa, because not even her eyes were visible behind the mask. She stood there for a couple of seconds, observing them both, until she decided to pull off her mask, revealing the same face with the hard and cold expression that Sandor had seen in the streets of King's Landing. Her grey eyes were angry and filled with an undying thirst for revenge, but there was something else in those eyes too. Sadness? Before Sandor could read further into the girl's expression, she pulled out a gun out of nowhere and pointed it directly to his head.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains off right now, _Hound,_ " she hissed.

The threat was real and present in her voice, she wasn't playing around. Realizing that he was fucked, Sandor immediately pulled out his own gun and pointed it back at her to at least try to have a chance to defend himself, and he pushed Sansa behind him to protect her. Right after he pulled his gun out, absolutely everyone inside that cave was pointing a gun at his head.

_Fuck!_

"Will you kill me in front of your sister, Stark?" he barked to the young woman in an accusatory tone. "You could have spared us the bloody trip here and come directly to the mansion to put a fucking bullet in my head."

"And risk being seen?"

"Arya, no!" Sansa screamed. She ran from behind Sandor to go and stand in front of him, putting herself between the bodyguard and her sister. If any of them fired their guns, they would shoot her.

"Sansa, what are you doing?!" Sandor barked. "Move away!"

"No!" she screamed again, terrified but stubborn. She wasn't going to move out of the way and let them kill each other. She looked at her sister with tears in her eyes. "Arya, please! He's good, he's not one of them! He has nothing to do with it!"

"He's Joffrey's bodyguard," Arya muttered.

"But he didn't know about the things Joffrey has done!" Sansa cried, defending Sandor even though there were guns being pointed at her at that moment for doing precisely that. She didn't care, she was still not going to move away.

"Sansa, move away!" Sandor shouted at her. He was feeling even more nervous than the day he had had to look for her in the crowd in the city square in front of the Sept of Baelor. He really shouldn't have brought her there, he shouldn't have listened to her! "Sansa, please! Move! You are going to get hurt!"

Sansa shook her head.

"No..." she whispered. "Arya would never hurt me... Would you, Arya? I'm your sister..."

"I don't want to hurt you, Sansa," Arya said, but she kept her eyes on Sandor. "Why are you defending him? He works for Joffrey, he's keeping you prisoner."

"He's not! He's protecting me! And in your letter... you said you trusted him! Arya, please don't hurt him!"

Sandor was impressed by the ferocity with which the little bird was defending him in front of all those armed people. Didn't she realize that she could just let them kill him, and maybe then she could be free and run away with them, flee away from Westeros and be free from Joffrey? Wasn't that what she wanted, an end to her torment? Then why was she still standing in front of him, begging her sister not to shoot him?

_Does she really care that much about me?_

In all those days, even though Sandor had seen that Sansa was definitely very attracted for him, he had never even dreamed that she would care so much for him. It was ridiculous, why would she even care about him? He was nothing, worthless! He was to be forgotten once they left the island, so why even bother protecting him? What was the point?

Sansa backed into Sandor, and once her back was pressed against his body, shielding him in a protective way, she held his arms with her hands. She had a fierce lion in her blue eyes that seemed to be challenging everybody in that cave to try and dare to take a step forward. After glaring at all the faceless masks that surrounded them, Sansa set her eyes on her sister's. Arya was still holding up the gun in front of her with a defiant look in her angry grey eyes.

"What will you do if I shoot him, Sansa?" she asked.

"I will never forgive you."

"Good."

When Arya Stark said that, Sandor thought that that was it, she was going to shoot him and she wouldn't care about anything that Sansa said. His only regret was that he hadn't known how to protect the little bird better.

But no one shot him. Instead, all the masked people started lowering their weapons, Arya included. Sandor frowned, and Sansa sighed with relief when she saw Arya smiling. Some of the anger in her eyes had washed away, and even though they were still angry there was some lighter emotion in them. Her smile was happy, and she was no longer looking at Sandor. Her attention was in Sansa now. Arya put her gun away and then she opened her arms.

"Sansa," she said, and that was all the invitation the auburn-haired woman needed to run away from Sandor and into her sister's arms.

Everybody watched in silence as the two sisters hugged each other with a loving embrace, and cried, and kissed and laughed. Sandor had never seen Sansa cry so much, but they were tears of happiness. It was so odd, to see the elegant and talk beauty and the short, tomboish and dark-haired girl dressed in some kind of military black suit together, greeting each other with such happiness. It was hard to believe that they were sisters, though it was easy to see that Arya was the former Vice President's daughter, she looked just like him.

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed them, still sobbing. She pulled away from her sister's embrace and wiped her tears off her face; she calmed down before asking: "What was all that about?! Why did you try to kill Sandor? What is happening? What is all this, who are these people?!"

"Calm down, Sansa, I'll explain everything... What I said in the letter is true, I trust Clegane... Or at least, now I do. I needed to see if the information we had been gathering about you two was real or if it was just an act."

"Wait, what? ... Information about us?" Sansa asked, confused.

Arya nodded. "I saw you two in King's Landing a couple times when I was watching Joffrey before the attack, but he only really called my attention in the streets of King's Landing when he went to look for you."

"Y-you saw us?!"

Sandor was just as surprised as the girl was. Arya looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Lesson for you, Clegane. Everything that you can see can see you too."

After saying that to Sandor, Arya turned her attention back to Sansa again.

"Yes, I saw you then, when I went to the car. I didn't do anything I let you now because I didn't know much about your bodyguard then, but I did know that he had just saved Joffrey's neck," she muttered between gritted teeth, clearly not amused by the memory. "I didn't know of he would hurt you if I said anything then. Then I learned that he was going to bring you alone here, so... I followed you. And I investigated you. With everything that I found out... well, it was enough to make me believe that maybe Clegane could be trusted, given that you have be been so... close to him."

Sansa gaped in shock, and her face turned red with embarrassment. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stop herself from cursing.

"Oh my God, Arya, were you spying on us?!"

"No! Well, yes, but I never saw anything, I just found out that you two were messing around. That's why I had my doubts! I didn't know if you were just using him so that he would treat you well, or if you genuinely liked each other..." Arya sighed. "But after all the show that we've just had here, I have no doubts anymore. It was real."

"Did you seriously have to point a gun at him to figure that out?! Couldn't you just ask him?!"

"And if it had been the other way around?" Sandor intervened, feeling very angry now. How dared that wolf-bitch investigate them, and stuck her nose into they private things?! "What if I hadn't been trust-worthy? What if right after your little friend Jaqen delivered your message at the mansion I had called my boss?"

"You were being watched and listened," the man, Jaqen, informed him. "There were people hidden outside the mansion pointing guns at you in case you reacted badly. And there was a bug inside the pizza box, in case you hadn't noticed. Just as the letter said, there was no way in which the Lannisters would get to you before we did. It would just have been a lot messier."

"And I didn't want to kill your precious bodyguard and upset you without knowing how he truly was," Arya said. "I did want to kill him at first, though. After all, he did sabotage our attack in King's Landing..."

"Well, he does get paid to do just that, Arya..." Jaqen joked, but the girl ignored him.

"Wait a second..." Sandor said then he had also lowered his gun after everyone else put away theirs, and he was now trying to put all the pieces in the puzzle together. He didn't understand anything. "I get that our little friend here, Miss Stark, wants to kill my boss. He had her daddy killed after all, but... Who the fuck are you people? Wearing those stupid masks trying to look like some kind of comic superhero or something..." he rasped, sounding just as rude as ever. He got his answer from Arya.

"We are the Faceless Men."

Sandor paled. "You've got to be fucking kidding me..."

"Why, what's wrong?" Sansa asked, confused. She didn't know what the Faceless Men were, but Sandor did know.

"They are fucking terrorists, that's what's wrong!" Sandor had often heard about the Faceless Men. They killed many important people in Westeros and abroad. They came from Essos, the country neighbor to Westeros, and they were worldwide known as skilled killers and the best identify thieves, experts in falsification of documents as well as skillful with all kinds of weapons. They were one of the most dangerous group of people in the world.

"Hey!" one of the masked men exclaimed, offended by the term with which Sandor had referred to them.

Jaqen sighed and folded his arms.

"We prefer the term ' _assassins_ '."

"Same fucking difference!" Sandor barked. "Sansa, come back here."

"Don't be stupid, Clegane, we are not going to hurt her," Arya muttered. "Besides, Jaqen is right, we are not terrorists."

"Tell that to fucking Europe and America, see what they think of it. They've both had big trouble with you."

"We are not terrorists, we don't go around putting bombs everywhere and blowing places up for the mere purpose of spreading fear," Jaqen said. "You pay us, you give us a name, and we kill the person. It's that simple."

"Yeah? And what about Joffrey Baratheon? Who paid you to get rid of the Governor?"

"I am," Arya said. "But I'm going to kill him with my own hands because I want to. It's what he deserves, after what he did to my father."

"He ordered his men to kill him. You are upset, I get it, but it's what politicians do, they get rid of their enemies!"

"Sandor!" Sansa whispered, hurt by his words, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't just say nothing when he was facing a groups of assassins that were viewed as terrorists by half the world, and not to stop them from creating chaos in King's Landing like they did the last time!

"Joffrey didn't just order my father to be killed," Arya hissed then, and her voice sounded deadly. She was shooting daggers through her angry grey eyes, and if looks could kill, Sandor would have been fulminated right then and there. "You don't know the whole story, so don't say anything. Do you want to know what your dear boss did? Do you really want to know what happened that night?"

"Arya, don't!" Sansa exclaimed, but Arya silenced her.

"He has to know, Sansa! Or he won't understand why I'm doing this. Joffrey is much worse than anyone thinks he is! He is a psychopath!"

"What do you mean?" Sandor asked, completely confused by that point.

"I saw everything. I saw it when my father was killed," Arya hissed with a murderous ring to her voice. "Sansa was there too, didn't she tell you?"

"What?"

" _No!_ " Sansa cried. She stepped away from her sister and walked towards one of the walls of the cave, turning her back to all of them. She put one arm around herself and she covered her mouth with her free hand. Sandor couldn't hear her sobbing, but he saw her shoulders shaking violently. "Arya, _please!_ "

"If he's going to protect you, he needs to know what kind of monster Joffrey is!" Arya explained to her sister, but Sansa just shook her head and sobbed out loud.

"What happened that night, Stark?" Sandor asked Arya, though he didn't take his eyes off Sansa. He was afraid she was going to faint, he had never seen her so upset.

"Joffrey had started being violent with Sansa weeks before our father was murdered," Arya hissed with a murderous ring in her voice. "Nobody knew, no one seemed to suspect. They still don't! But that night I thought there was something off with them. When I found them in the street arguing loudly about something, I started following them. Joffrey took Sansa to Flea Bottom, I don't know why. I hid and tried to figure out what was going on, why they were so upset, but I couldn't really understand what they were saying. Then he started hitting her."

" _Arya, stop…_ "

The girl ignored her.

"Then father showed up."

"He should have never done that..."

"He saved your life."

"At what price?!" Sansa yelled, turned back around to face her sister in anger. "He is dead now! Because of me!"

Tears streamed down her face, and Sandor couldn't stand it much longer. In two quick steps he was at her side, holding her gently so that she wouldn't fall to the rock ground. She was a mess, her face was puffy and red and wet from her tears, and her breaths were short and shallow because she couldn't stop crying. Sandor had never been able to stand crying women, but seeing Sansa like that made him want to twist all those fucker's necks.

"Sansa. Sansa, little bird, you are ok," he tried to soother her unsuccessfully. She angrily shook her head.

"I'm not okay! Nothing is okay!"

"What happened, Sansa? Tell me, what did Joffrey do? What did your father do?"

Sansa was too upset to answer him, so he sighed and warped his muscled arms around her. He glared at Arya, Jaqen, and all those faceless fuckers for making his little bird go through that and relive painful memories. He hadn't known that Sansa had been present during Ned Stark's death, but now that he did know he understood why she was always so scared. The grotesque way in which the Vice President's body had been found had been all over the news, and it had almost made Sandor sick.

"H-he killed Dad because of m-me..." Sansa sobbed, burying her face in Sandor's chest.

"Don't say that," Arya insisted. "Joffrey never liked Dad. Dad knew that he was up to something bad, I heard it. He pushed Joffrey away from you and they started screaming. Dad told Joffrey that he was a monster, that he would call the cops on him and tell them everything that he knew."

"Knew of what?" Sandor inquired, but Arya shrugged.

"I don't know. But the next thing that happened was that Joffrey's other bodyguards showed up, and they pushed Dad away from him. They held him."

Meryn and Boros had showed up? They were the ones that had killed Vice President Stark?

"Mery held Sansa and Boros beat Dad up. At that moment I didn't know what to do. I was frozen, I couldn't move. I should have helped Dad... But before I couldn't step out of hiding Joffrey pulled out a knife and stabbed my father."

Sandor was seldom shocked by things he was told, but he couldn't help but open his eyes wide when he heard those words leaving the Stark girl's lips. It was one thing to know that Joffrey had ordered someone to be killed, and it was a completely different think to know he had killed that person himself... in front of the victim's own face.

_Sansa... What has that bastard put you through?_

Arya's face was the mask of pure hate. She was strong enough to hold her tears from falling down her face like a waterfall; maybe she couldn't allow herself to be weak in front of all those people, the Faceless Men. But her eyes, if their were angry when he first saw them, now were berserk with anger and rage and hatred. They were even darker with hate than Sandor's had ever been, and Sandor had known a world of pain and anger and hatred during his whole life.

"And then Joffrey stabbed him again. And again. And again. He did it over and over until my father was covered in blood, but he didn't kill him. I wasn't seeing it anymore, I had hidden even more because I couldn't watch that, I just couldn't. It was too horrible. Even hearing it was too horrible..." her voice had started shaking. "I still have nightmares of the memories of hearing my father being killed. I don't even want to imagine what it must have been for my sister to actually being forced to watch everything. It just got worse. Joffrey didn't want to kill my father quickly. After he had stabbed him, he cut his head off. He took the knife and started slicing my father's neck open, slowly... Slowly severing his head from his body... You can't imagine... the screams... And Joffrey's laughs while he did that..."

"He made me watch it," Sansa murmured then, her voice barely audible. Sandor held her tighter in his arms, wanting to protect her. He wished he could delete that awful memory from her mind, delete all that pain... "He made Meryn hold my face straight and keep my eyes open so that I would see everything. And when he was done he... kicked the head towards me, and he started mutilating the body with the knife."

Sandor really felt sick then. He wanted to throw up, but he didn't, he was stronger than that. He was... absolutely disgusted and horrified by what had just been revealed to him. He wanted to roar with rage and smash his fists into something.

For a long time since he met Sansa, he had been judging her for being with Joffrey even though it was clear she didn't love him. He had though that she wanted material things from him, and that she just was a expensive whore that was putting up with his bullshit because she didn't want to lose the benefits that came from being with him. And know he found out this... Joffrey was a monster. And Sansa... Sansa was the bravest woman in the fucking world. Because even though she might look weak in the eyes of other people who though that she should fight and get rid of Joffrey, she was instead putting up with all of his crap, his abuse, and the fear that one day he might hurt her just like he had hurt her father, and she was doing that so that the same wouldn't happen to her family.

She deserved fucking better than that. A deep fear settled deep in the pit of Sandor's stomach when he realized that there wasn't anything that he could do to shield her from those horrors. The damage that Joffrey had done to Sansa was far worse than the physical abuse that he was inflicting on her. It was the psychological damage that he had provoked her that was the real hell, the real torture, and Sandor couldn't take it away.

He wanted to console her, but words were of no fucking use. He knew that no matter what he said, what sweet words he spoke to her, the killer grief in her wouldn't disappear, nor would the fear. So he didn't say anything... he just held her right against his chest, giving her the warmth of his body, keeping her as close to him as he possibly could to try and give her some sense of protection... He hoped that would be enough, at least for the moment.

Sansa responded to his silent efforts by holding on even more tightly to him, grabbing his shirt with shaking hands, and sobbing against him. He didn't mind. She had the full right to cry all she wanted, he wouldn't try to stop her. All that he could do was place a gentle and soft kiss on her hair at the top of her hair.

Then he raised his eyes again and stared into Arya Stark's eyes. Now his eyes were just as full of anger as hers.

"That's why you ran away with these people? To be able to have your revenge?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to try it again?"

"I don't know. We can't do anything without the boss's permission, and he has not given it."

"Who is the fucking boss?"

"He's in India right now. We don't know when he'll come back."

Sandor cursed under his breath.

"Sansa..." Arya murmured, worried about her sister. "Do you understand now why I had to go? I didn't want to leave you all alone, but it was the only way... Jaqen was a friend of mine before everything happened, and I ran to him and told him everything, and he helped me escape Westeros and become one of them... I'm sorry that you must have believed that I just abandoned you..."

"It's okay, Arya..." Sansa said. All the sobs had provoked her small hiccups, and she was having trouble breathing. Even though she was addressing her sister, she refused to let go of Sandor, and she still held on to him while she spoke."I-I understand and... I'm so glad you escaped. I'm so happy that you don't have to go through that..."

"What are you going to do now? What's the plan?" Sandor wanted to know.

"We have you wait," Arya muttered bitterly, clearly unhappy about that. "As I said, if we attack now our boss will be furious."

"No one wants to make the boss mad," Jaqen added. "We have only had one opportunity to get rid of the Baratheon man, and thanks to you, we got rid of the wrong one."

"I'm a bodyguard, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Have fucking mental powers to know the truth behind all that bullshit that had been going on?"

"No, but you are warned for the next time."

"If there is a next time."

"There will be one," Arya assured her very firmly. "But until then... we will have to wait. That's why I wanted you two to come here tonight, to explain to you, specially to Sansa, what was going on. I want you to understand, sister."

"I understand," Sansa nodded. She was now just sobbing quietly, and the fabric of Sandor's shirt and jacket had dried off the tears from her face. "And I suppose... you are going to disappear again?"

"I have to. No one an know the truth about me. Mom and Robb know that I'm alright, and now you do too, and that's all I wanted. I wanted you to know that I'm okay, and that I haven't forgotten you. I wish I could take you with us, but it would be too risky for everyone. You are better with Sandor, he can take care of you, I can definitely see that now."

"I don't want you to leave again..." Sansa whimpered, making a heart-broken expression appear on her sister's long face.

"I'm so sorry Sansa... There's nothing I can do right now, other than await orders. But we can stay in contact."

When Arya said that, Jaqen approached one of the Faceless Men and took an object out of the masked person's pocket. He then walked over to where Sandor was and handed him the brand new phone, but instead of a new model it was one of the old ones from years ago. Small, simple, easy to hide. Not one of those fancy bullshit with lots of useless apps and big ass cameras that were so easy to break and track.

"Sansa's got a bug in her phone, so you better use this one. It's prepaid. Use it only in case of an emergency if you need us, we don't want to call too much attention or be exposed too much. Nowadays this shit is too dangerous."

Sandor agreed and put the phone inside his pocket, closing it well enough to make sure that it wouldn't get wet on the way out of the cave. He stayed in silence as Sansa gathered her strength and dared to step a little bit away from him to face her sister yet again. Sansa ran to give Arya a goodbye loving hug, which Arya gladly accepted. After a few seconds the sisters separated, but they were still holding each other's hands.

"Promise me than everything will be okay, Arya," Sansa whispered, and Arya smiled a little bit and tilted her head to the side.

"Everything will be okay. We'll go back home, with out family. Meanwhile we have to figure out how to bring down Joffrey, and everyone else... Be strong, Sanda, I know you can do this. You are so brave... A true Stark!"

Sansa laughed, and after hearing her crying and sobbing and suffering so much, her laugh was a Merry welcome sound to Sandor's ears.

"You always looked more Stark than me..." she said, and Arya Stark shrugged.

"It was good seeing you, Sansa."

"Oh, it was so good seeing you, dear sister!"

"My friends will help you get out of the cave... There's a hidden tunnel in the back that leads West. It will not take you much closer to the mansion, but you won't get wet or lost."

Sansa nodded in agreement with her sister's plans, and she said her good byes. Both sisters looked at each other, their gazes lingering in their eyes, for they didn't know when the next time that they would see it other would be. Days, weeks? Months? Years? Everything was possible, even the terrible options.

After she walked away from her younger sister, Sansa walked back towards Sandor and he wrapped her up in the blanket that they had been given again to keep her warm in the cold and dark of the night. Sansa's hair was damp and her clothes climbed to her skin, wet. Sandor feared she might catch a cold in her deliberated state thanks to all the fucking emotions of that night. Sandor wished Sansa had been spared the horror of having to remember again what was probably the worse memory of her entire life, he had hated to watch her suffer that way.

He couldn't really take away her pain or amend the wrongs that had already been done, but he could do something. Slowly, very slowly, she turned around to face Arya Stark, and he pointed a menacing index finger towards her. Everyone watched them both in silence, waiting to see what he wanted to say. Sansa, Jaqen, the Faceless Men... Everyone's eyes were set on the huge bodyguard that they had never seen so enraged before. Finally, he said the words that he wanted to say to Arya Stark.

"You know that, because of what I am, who I work for... I will have to keep protecting my boss, aye?"

Arya nodded, but Sandor wasn't done.

"And you know that I will have to stop you again if you try again what you did at the Sept of Baelor, right?"

"Yes..."

"The next time that you try to fucking blow a hole in his brain, at least try to make sure that I don't see you," Sandor rasped those last words before turning around, putting his arm around Sansa's shoulder, and leaving that cage following the Faceless Men that were guiding them out of that crazy cave that was now full of dark secrets and terrors.


	18. Go Back To Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!
> 
> Here's another chapter. I wanted to write it sooner, but when I started it my writing was interrupted by an unexpected health problem. And then that problem was followed by another health problem! But now I'm fine, and the chapter is finished. I just hope it turned out fine and that you like it!
> 
> I tried to proof read it and I think that I fixed all the mistakes, but my phone can be a jerk, so I wouldn't be surprised if some mistakes pop up around the chapter.
> 
> Oh, someone said something about the previous chapter that left me a bit worried. I suppose some of you mistook the meaning of Sandor's words at the end of the chapter and you might think that he wants to protect Joffrey. He doesn't want to, but he had a duty. Anyways, what Sandor meant at the end of the chapter was something like "so, I have to do my job and protect this little shit because I can't just go and stop being his bodyguard because that would be suspicious, and I know that Arya wants to kill him, so I'll keep being his bodyguard but I kind of want him dead because of what he did to the woman I love but I can't do much about it, so if you try to kill him be careful and don't do anything that puts me in a position that forces me to stop you because I really don't fucking want to stop you from shooting him." Understood? I hope yes! ^^
> 
> I have decided to start putting chapter titles. I haven't decided on titles for all of the previous chapters, but I will soon. Oh, and first Sansa POV! Yay!
> 
> ENJOY! :D

_"Sansa, get out of here!" her father's voice shouted._

_She turned around to flee, but two arms much stronger that her grabbed her and held her in place. She screamed and kicked, screamed and bit, but Meryn wouldn't let her go. As she struggled she could hear another fight going on a few feet away from her, she heard punched and painful groans. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his father shouting in pain and she turned her head to see what was happening, only to see that Boros had beaten up her father and was now holding him in place for Joffrey. Blood was running down her father's chin, and there was a bad cut in his forehead. He doubled over in pain, probably having a broken rib from Boros's punches._

_"Stop!" she screamed, trying to get rid of Meryn again, unsuccessfully. That didn't stop her from screaming at Joffrey. " **Joffrey, please! Stop!** "_

_Her fiancé wasn't looking at her, he wasn't even listening to her. He was staring at Ned Stark with a deadly glare and gritted teeth; his expression had never been more furious. He looked like a true maniac._

_"You are going to be sorry for this, Stark!" he spat._

_"You are the one that's going to be sorry, Joffrey," Eddard Stark murmured in a weak voice. "The police will know what you have done."_

**_No, don't provoke him!_ ** _,Sansa screamed in her mind, desperate but unable to say anything. She was trying really hard not to cry. She just wanted Meryn to let go of her and walk out of that place with her father safe and sound and forget about everything._

_"Joffrey..." she murmured, trying to get her fiancé's attention and turn it away from her father. "Please... let us go. I will be good. I will be a good wife, I'll do anything you ask... But let my father leave, please. Nothing will have happened here, I swear..."_

_She started sobbing then, even though nothing had happened yet, but Joffrey's eyes were scaring her. He had finally turned his face towards her, and his twisted grin turned his features into something that would appear in her darkest nightmares._

_Joffrey observed her and ran his eyes all over her, making her feel filthy and powerless. She wanted to struggle against Meryn again to try and free herself, but she couldn't because she wanted Joffrey to believe what she was saying; that she would be good, that she would obey. She would be his slave, if only he let her father go unharmed._

_For a second there, she had hope. But that hope was shattered as soon as she heard Joffrey's cruel laugh. He was looking at her while he laughed; that sound was making horrible chins run down her spine and made her really want to cry, but she held back her tears. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down..._

_"Meryn," Joffrey said then, and suddenly the bodyguard put on of his hands on her face and held her head in place, pulling her eyelids open to make sure she saw whatever Joffrey wanted her to see. Her first reaction was to let out a loud cry, but she bit her tongue to be silent._

**_I will not let him see me cry... He can beat me all he wants, I don't care,_ ** _she thought. **But please, let my father go, he shouldn't have come here...**_

_All of a sudden, Joffrey pulled a knife from one of the inside pockets of his jackets. Sansa froze, thinking that he was going to cut her._

**_Oh my God..._ **

_"No..." she mumbled, unable to stop herself. She did not want him to cut her with a knife!_

_Her father had also seen the blade. His eyes were wide as plates and his face was terribly pale; he tried to fight against Boros but his strength was no match to the bodyguard's._

_"Joffrey!" he hissed. " **Let her go!** "_

_But Joffrey wasn't about to do that..._

_He lifted the knife, showing the sharp blade to Sansa so that she could see it. She gasped and tried to move away from it, unaware that Joffrey wasn't trying to hurt her. At least not in that way..._

_"This is for you, my love," Joffrey said._

_Before Sansa could say anything, Joffrey turned around, grabbed Ned Stark's shoulder with his free hand, and buried the knife in his stomach. Ned Stark shouted in pain while Joffrey laughed like a psychopath and blood spurted out of the wound, staining Joffrey's face and the concrete floor under they feet. Joffrey pulled the knife out and stabbed my he Vice President again._

_" **DAD!** " Sansa screamed._

* * *

 

Strong hands that shook her in the middle of the night awoke her from her nightmare, and she found that she had been screaming for real.

"Little bird! Sansa, wake up!" a raspy voice exclaimed at her side, alarmed and worried.

She opened her eyes all of a sudden and sat up on the bed startled. She was covered in cold sweat and she was panting, nearly unable to breath. She felt like she was suffocating, like two cold iron hands were wrapped tight around her neck and wouldn't let the air come into her lungs.

Sandor sat up on the bed as well and he turned just for a second to turn on the light on the lamp in the nightstand. After the bedroom was illuminated her turned towards Sansa again and he held her shaking shoulders. His touch was burning hot compared to her skin covered in ice-cold sweat.

"Seven hells, Sansa, what's wrong?" Sandor asked, alarmed by her state and greatly concerned. He gently pulled her closer to him until she was leaning against his broad chest, covered only in a white undershirt, and when her head was resting against his body she broke down in tears. That alarmed Sandor even more.

"Sshh, sshh, little bird" he tried to soothe her, wiping her tears away with his fingers carefully. "What's wrong, Sansa? Why are you crying?"

He was really trying to help her even though he wasn't any good at it, or at least that's what he thought due to his lack of experience, and she knew he really cared about her and was genuinely worried. But she was so upset that she couldn't form proper words. Her mouth was trembling just as the rest of her body and was incapable of forming proper words. The only thing that she could do was cry, so she held on to Sandor's undershirt and cried her eyes out.

Sandor wasn't stupid, though. In a few seconds he knew perfectly fine what was wrong with her. After all, he had discovered everything just hours ago. He wrapped her body with his arms in a protective way and cradled her.

"It's okay, little bird... You are okay... Nothing is going to happen to you."

She knew that he wouldn't let anyone hurt her, he had promised her and Sandor Clegane was a man of his word. But Sansa couldn't stop crying or feeling like a thousand knives in fire had stabbed her because the real damage was already done.

"I saw it, I saw it all again..." she sobbed against Sandor's chest. She tried to control her sobbing and stop crying, but it was one of the hardest things to do. "I saw my Dad... And Joffrey..."

Sandor kept silence, not really knowing how to soothe her pain on that matter. What do you say to a girl who saw her father murdered by her fiancé and had just relived that terrible moment in her dreams?

Because he couldn't find any proper words to say to her, he did the next best thing that occurred to him and that was cup her face with one hand and kiss the hair at the top of her head. It wasn't just a peck; his lips lingered in that area of her head, transmitting through them to her everything that he did not know how to tell her. He wasn't good with words, had never been, probably never would.

However, Sansa understood him. Yes, of course she understood him. She had understood him from long ago, and that moment was just another confirmation of what she already knew. That, even though he would have to eventually let go, she could always be safe with him. If he could he would erase the pain that was killing her soul, but he couldn't. He was a bodyguard and a man, not a god...

"Come back to sleep," he murmured then against her head, and she shook her head. She was crying anymore, but her face was damp and Sandor's undershirt was wet with her tears.

"I don't want to sleep," she murmured, terrified of going back to sleep. "The nightmares will come again."

"I'll be by your side, I'll scare them off," Sandor assured her, and then he gave her a soft smile. He wasn't a man that was used to smiling, but when he really meant it it was a real gift for Sansa to see his expression like that instead of the usual moody emotionless expression that was so terrifying sometimes. "I'll wake you up if I have to."

"You are not going to be able to sleep..." she murmured, suddenly feeling bad that she was keeping him awake with that, but Sandor shook his head.

"Bullshit. Now come, little bird. You need to sleep, it's been a long and tiring day."

It was true. The morning and the afternoon and evening had been pretty normal, but around midnight and a few hours after that everything had changed. Sansa had been able to see Arya, whom for a period of time she had believed to be dead after she disappeared. Seeing her alive and well was the biggest relief that could have happened to Sansa, though she was worried about the mess that Arya was getting herself into. She was worried that something bad was going to happen to her, but Arya seems dead set in her goals and Sansa wasn't in any position to stop her. The walk back to the mansion had been very tiring and difficult, and Sansa had been terrified of being caught at the last moment, but Sandor had managed to get her in the same way that he had gotten her out. She realized that he had risked a lot to make her happy that night.

She was sobbing very quietly, still upset about her dream, but she was already used to those. She didn't cry as much as she used to the first days, nor did she scream her father's name at the top of her lungs. Now she just cried, and let the pain slowly go away.

Sandor out a hand in her forehead, still covered in ice-cold sweat. He cursed under his breath.

"You are not well," he rasped.

"I am fine," she lied.

"No, you are not, let me get you something."

He tried to get out of the bed, but Sansa kept her arms tightly wrapped around his middle and wouldn't let him go.

"Stay with me!" she said, almost crying. Gods, she felt stupid. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't help it. If Sandor left her when would feel alone, vulnerable, unprotected, not safe... She was afraid her nightmares would become real again and torment her for as long as he was away.

"Little bird, everything will be alright..."

"Stay!" she said. Her voice was stronger, and it sounded like an order. Sandor sighed and stayed inside the bed, and he surrounded Sansa with his arms again while he caressed her soft cheek with his fingers.

They laid like that in bed for more than twenty minutes, engulfed by the darkness of the night and in complete silence. Sansa had stopped sobbing and she entertained herself with the sound of Sandor's deep breathing and with the movement of his chest, which she found incredibly soothing. She had her eyes wide open; no matter how much she wanted to go back to sleep and try to rest some, sleep wouldn't come to her. She wondered if Sandor had already fell asleep when suddenly she heard his low raspy voice.

"I'm sorry."

She frowned when she heard those words leaving his lips, and for a second she wondered if she had heard wrong or if maybe she was asleep and she didn't know and was dreaming odd things. She hadn't known the man for a long time, but in the short time that she had actually been talking to him it had become very clear to her that Sandor Clegane wasn't a man that apologized easily. Sansa moved her head to she she could look at him, and a bit of moonlight allowed her to see that his eyes were open as well and looking at her.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because of what I said earlier, to your sister. That I would have to... protect Joffrey," he explained. As soon as he said that, Sansa understood and shook her head.

"I understand," she assured him. "You can't just stop doing what you've been doing for 23 years, many things would be at risk then. I get it, it's fine. I know you didn't mean it."

"But what I told to your sister is true. I will let her keep trying, I won't do anything to stop her... unless I have to. Besides, she wants to kill Joffrey herself, doesn't she? If anyone else attacks him, I think it's better that I do something about it."

"Doesn't it bother you?" Sansa asked then, and that time it was Sandor the one that frowned. "I mean... you have been taking care of him for almost his whole life, after all. It wouldn't really surprise me of you were angry that there are people plotting to get rid of him."

That was another one of the things that had scared her at first when she had met him for the first time. He was Joffrey's bodyguard, the man who had been at his life for more than two decades. Surely he must be very close to Joffrey, care about him, be his friend or confidant. Sansa had thought at first that Sandor might be just as much of a dangerous person as Joffrey, but it had taken her little time to see how different the two men actually were. Sandor was dangerous, yes, but in a way that was as different from Joffrey's kind of dangerous as white is different from black.

"No," was Sandor's response. Sansa couldn't lie, she felt relieved when she heard that word. "Because I have been watching over him for such a long time I can understand that he is not the best person in the world. I knew he was capable of things, bad things... But what I have found out tonight, or even what I've been discovering over the past months... It's too fucking much. Your sister could stick a bomb up his arse and make him blow up from the inside out and I wouldn't give a fuck. I never liked him anyways, he was always a nasty little shit."

"Do you think my sister can succeed? Killing him, I mean," Sansa had never wished anything bad for anyone in her life, but her fiancé was the clear exception. Every time she closed her eyes, nightmares came back to her. Every couple of weeks she had a new bruise to remind her of the hell that her life was bound to be from then on. She wished Joffrey to go to hell and never come back.

"It's difficult," Sandor sighed, "but she did a pretty good darn job in the city square. She was damn close to killing him. But now, because of me, security will be skyrocketing around Joff."

"But it's not impossible?"

"No. She's with the Faceless Men after all, and I've told you, those guys are fucking nuts. When I was over in Europe they were making some shit happen, killing corrupt politicians all over the place."

Sansa shuddered. She couldn't imagine her younger sister, with whom she had memories of petty fights over stupid things and pleasing summer afternoons and evenings with her family in Winterfell during winter mornings, doing those horrible things.

"I don't like it. I don't like that my sister is with those people."

"She seemed to be getting well enough with them. She's surviving in her way, joining those crazy buggers. You are surviving in you own way too, staying in the snake pit."

"At least I have someone that cares for me," she said smiling slightly. It was the first time that she smiled that night since she got back from the cave. She ran the tips of her fingers over Sandor's powerful chest, and in return Sandor caressed her back.

"Go to sleep, little bird. The nightmares won't come now. And if they do, just wake me up."

She smiled gratefully, and after cuddling against his body and placing her head comfortably on his chest she fell asleep holding him tight. Just as Sandor had said, the nightmares didn't come back, and the night went on peacefully. The hours of darkness passed and were gone, and soon the sun rose in the horizon and lit the sky.

Sandor awoke with the first rays of sunlight as usual, but he waited for Sansa, lying down in bed and holding her until a couple hours later her eyes opened as well.

It was a normal morning for them, as if nothing had changed since last night. Both of them figured that would be the best thing to do for both of them, acting like everything was normal and going on with their day as they had been doing since they arrived at Tarth. Sandor had breakfast ready for both of them in a heartbeat and Sansa joined him dressed with her pajamas and a silk robe. They had breakfast in silence; Sansa drank her tea and Sandor drank his coffee, and she smeared some jam on the toasts for both of them while he peeled an orange for her. It was a quiet and peaceful morning, and both of them were grateful for that; last night had been adventurous enough for both of then, and now they just needed to rest.

Sansa tried some small talk, mentioning excitedly her plans for her next album, and Sandor listened to her. He enjoyed seeing how her face lit up whenever she mentioned music. He had seen her sing and dance the other day with the music at the highest volume, and he could count with the fingers of one hand the times that he had seen her so happy. Sansa said that the only reason why she would ever want to leave that island was to continue her career. She had been on your not long ago, and she couldn't wait to go on another one again. Sandor could see why she would love that so much: it was an escape.

When they were finished they cleaned up after themselves, and Sansa went upstairs to have a shower. She went into the immense bathroom that was in the master bedroom, all luxury and marble, and she quickly discarded her robe and her pajamas on the floor. She filled the enormous bathtub with hot water and foam, and she added some bath salts, she needed them. When her bath was ready she quickly stepped into the water before she could catch a cold, and the welcomed the warm and relaxing feeling that invaded her when she sat on the tub and she had water up to her chin. Her auburn hair floated around her, and she loved not feeling dirty anymore. Neither she nor Sandor had had a chance to bathe last night when they returned to the mansion from their little trip, and the water from the waterfall had left them with and odd smell and an uncomfortable feeling. Sandor might be more used to being unclean, due to his careless nature and his time at war, but Sansa hated being filthy with a passion.

She laid down on the tub, relaxed, and closed her eyes while she left the warm water and the bath salts do their job. She stayed like that for around ten minutes, simply thinking of nothing, until she heard some footsteps approaching and Sandor knocked on the door.

"Come in!" she said, and Sandor opened the door and walked inside the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her like that in the foam bath, and she could she in his face that he appreciated what he saw. That made her smile. "What? Do you want to join me?"

"That would be a very good idea..." Sandor murmured with eyes full of fire and his raspy voice sounded full of desire. No matter how bad the night had been, the flame between them seemed to not be able to disappear. Although Sansa was feeling exhausted, she thought that maybe it would really be a good idea for Sandor to strip and join her, but she was disappointed when he said: "Unfortunately, I have to go to town."

"Why?"

"Those buggers that came yesterday forgot to bring some stuff I really need. If I don't go now I won't arrive in time before they close the stores. Besides... _you know who_ called. He wants me to do something."

"Oh... Ok..."

"But-" he said, pointing a playful finger at her, "I expect the offer to be up at some other time?"

"You can count on it," she assured him with a sweet smile.

Sandor returned her smile, making the burned side of his face twist in an strange way but neither one of them cared about it, and he took a few steps towards the tub.

"Are you going to be alright while I'm gone?" he asked, concerned. He didn't like leaving her alone there one bit.

She nodded. "Yes, I'll be fine. It won't be much different than being in a hotel room, and I have experience with that."

"I won't be gone for long," he assured her.

"It's alright, I'll just be watching TV or reading or something. I might use this time to learn the script," she said. Maybe it wasn't bad to have a little bit of alone time after all, she would finally be able to do stuff. She could never concentrate when Sandor was around.

"Good. In that case, see you later, little bird."

"See you later."

He kneeled next to the tub and leaned in to briefly kiss Sansa goodbye on the lips. It was a short but sweet kiss, and it left a big smile on Sansa's lips after Sandor walked outside the bathroom to the leave the mansion. She stared at the door of the bathroom until she heard the main door closing downstairs.

Sansa stared at the ceiling for a few moment with her mind in blank, moving her hands around in the water and playing with the bubbles. Then the void in her mind was filled with thoughts about everything that had been happening lately in her life. It was all a mess. A bad mess overall, but in some aspects it was a good mess. Sandor had become that good part of the mess.

Not in a thousand years would she had ever thought that she would have an affair, but there she was. She was engaged to a terrible man, a man that had murdered her father and threatened her with slaughtering the rest of her family and her if she ever dared defy him, and she was sleeping with his own bodyguard. The irony of the whole situation made her laugh.

No, she wasn't just sleeping with Sandor. What they had, what had happened during those days that they had been in the mansion in the island... it wasn't just two people simply sleeping with each other. It was so much more.

Sansa cared about Sandor. She cared about him much more than she could have thought in a beginning. Within one small week she had found herself needing him like she needed the air she breathed.

She laid back and let the water raise up to her chin while she thought about how that had come to happen. She had stopped being afraid of Sandor when he so gently carried her to her room after Joffrey's sudden and unexpected burst of rage when he read the news about Robb going against him in the campaign. She had learned that he could trust him with all the little details that came after that every other day. Whenever she needed him, he was there for her. Along the way, she had started genuinely caring for him, and she couldn't give less of a damn about his scars or how incredibly rude and annoying he was most of the time.

Sandor was the best thing that had happened to her inside that hellhole. Her whole world had crumbled down to ashes in a blink of an eye more than a year ago: her fiancé had revealed his true colors, the monster that he was underneath the perfect man mask. She had found herself completely alone in a place full of enemies, and now the only help that she had that came from outside was her sister... and a group of assassins.

_Why couldn't I just have a normal, peaceful, happy life_? she wondered.

It wasn't so bad now, there in Tarth. But she would have to leave the Sapphire Isle, and then she would be in for a world of pain again. For starters, her dreaded wedding to Joffrey was approaching faster than what she would have liked.

Time flew by as she thought of those things, and suddenly she realized that she had spent almost an hour in the tub and the water was already turning cold. Sansa quickly grabbed a sponge and put some soap on it to wash herself. She also washed her hair, and after she was done she stepped out of the tub and let the water go.

Sansa wrapped a white towel around herself, covering her body all the way down to her thighs. She stepped in front of the huge mirror and combed her hair to take all the knots out. It felt good to feel her hair clean again, and it smelled of lemons because of the shampoo she had used. She loved lemons, and she smiled in front of the mirror.

She heard the door of the bedroom outside opening, and she looked at the closed door of the bathroom with curiosity. She also heard heavy footsteps walking slowly around the bedroom. Had Sandor already come back? It had been over an hour since he left.

"Sandor?" she asked then, hoping to hear his voice answering her. However, there was only silence. Maybe he hadn't heard her. "Are you back already?"

Again, no answer. For a second Sansa thought of dropping her towel and go outside to meet Sandor with a surprise, and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, but something told her not to do it. If Sandor wanted the towel off her, he could take it off her himself.

Sansa turned around and headed for the bathroom door, opening it an stepping outside into the bedroom.

"Sandor!" she called him in a sing-song voice. "I thought you'll be gone longer!"

"You were right. Sandor is not coming back yet," a voice responded.

Sansa almost screamed, but her voice caught in her throat and she only managed to gasp instead. She almost dropped the towel because of the shock, but her hands somehow managed to keep holding the towel and covering her nakedness.

There was a tall man standing in the bedroom, a man much taller than Sandor. He was huge. He was inspecting the contents on one of Sansa's drawers, and he had his back turned to Sansa, but still she knew immediately who he was, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest with dread. She had been afraid of the man the first time that he had seen him, but now that she knew the terrible things that he had done to his family she was terrified of him, and disgusted by him.

Gregor Clegane turned around and stared at her with a smirk on his face. Sansa felt sick by the sight of him. That was the man that had hurt Sandor so terribly, so cruelly. And now he was there alone in a room with her, while she was almost naked. She wanted to cry, to scream, to run away, but she couldn't done any of those things.

Gregor tilted his head to the side. His grey eyes were incredibly similar to Sandor's, but much darker, and filed with a cruel nature that wasn't present in his younger brother's. As he looked at her he licked his lips.

"You are a pretty thing. Does the Governor know that you are so..." as he searched for a word, his eyes roamed all over her, making her cringe, "... _friendly_ with my brother?"

Sansa blushed furiously, and she felt her face burning and turning bright red. Her hands shook a little, and she made an effort to keep holding Gregor's gaze.

"I-I don't know what you are talking about..." she mumbled, and Gregor laughed.

"Not many pretty girls like you walk around my brother half naked and so happy," he said, giving her a knowing look and taking a step forward. Sansa reacted by taking a step back, and another, and another, until she back into the wall. "I wonder if your fiancé will be happy with that."

"I didn't know you were inside the room. I heard noises and I thought Sandor was downstairs. I just wanted to know."

"Are you always so happy when that dog comes home?"

When she heard Gregor Clegane referring like that about his younger brother, Sansa forgot for a second how terrified she was of the man and that fear was replaced by anger.

"That's none of your business," she hissed.

"But it is!" Gregor exclaimed, raising his voice and making Sansa almost jump with a start. Gregor got even closer to her, and she was trapped between him and the wall and had nowhere to go. The fear was back. She knew that that man was a monster, and there was no one there to safe her from whatever he wanted to do with her.

"You don't work for Joffrey. Why are you here?"

"He had no one else to send here, so I volunteered. I thought it could be fun. It was a wise decision... You are so much prettier up close than at a distance... And the lack of clothes suits you," he said with a lascivious look on his face. The tone in his voice was sickening. He reached with his hand and touched Sansa's naked arm, making her whimper.

"Go away!" she exclaimed, trying to he bold and brave. It only made Gregor laugh again.

"Or what? You will call for your loyal dog? He's far away, I don't think he can hear you."

" _Speak of the devil and he shall appear,_ " rasped a voice that suddenly came out of nowhere.

Both Sansa and Gregor turned their heads to the side to look to the door, where the voice had suddenly come from. Sansa sighed with immense relief when she saw Sandor standing there, but she froze when he saw the murderous expression on his face which twisted his scars in a terrifying way, and that he was holding his gun up and pointing it at his brother's head.

"Sandor," Gregor said. His voice was much serious now, and from the corner of her eye Sansa could see the way in which his expression transformed from amusement to being annoyed; however, the cruelty was still present in him. "We weren't expecting you."

"Get the fuck out of Miss Stark's room, Gregor," Sandor barked, not lowering his gun. Gregor raised his eyebrows.

"Will you shoot me in front of the lady, little brother?"

"You know I fucking will. _Get out_. **_Now_**!"

For a moment Sansa genuinely believed that Sandor was going to pull the trigger. She would understand him if he did it; after what he had told her the other day she knew how much Sandor had suffered because of his brother, and she wouldn't blame him if he decided to make Gregor's brains fly all the way across the bedroom. She waited for it to happen, but it never did. Sandor just stood there pointing the gun at his brother, but the threat was real in his eyes. Sansa could see that he would really shoot if Gregor didn't let go of her.

Gregor let go of her arm, not before squeezing it in gently and hurting her. She hissed and looked down at her tender skin, knowing that she would most likely have a bruise there because of that brute. The massive monster took a few steps away from her and towards Sandor, who didn't lower the gun. Sansa thought that was smart, because in a fair fight Gregor looked like he could crush any man with his little finger, and he was certainly even stronger than Sandor. Sansa was afraid then of what could happen between the two brothers, she was afraid that Gregor would attack Sandor and she would be forced to stand aside powerless and watch. Luckily for her, that didn't happen. Instead of being hostile, Gregor decided to laugh under his breath. His laugh sounded like it could be the cause of Sansa's future nightmares.

"Relax, brother..." he said. A cruel and sadistic delight was present in his voice. "I have come on your boss's orders. You can lower your gun now."

"What the fuck do you want?" Sandor barked, lowering the gun just a bit but still pointing it at the older Clegane.

"He wants you to bring his fiancée back. Her family is finally back in the fucking North. Pack your bags, I'm taking you back to King's Landing right now."

Then Gregor walked past his brother and left the room, but not before turning his head back towards Sansa and winking at her. The sole feature made her feel sick again. Something that would seem so harmless, had anyone else done it, looked like the worse kind of threat to her coming from that man. Everything that he did or said same to be tainted with evil. His sole presence in a room inspired terror.

Only when the huge man disappeared downstairs did Sandor lower his gun. He stayed in the doorframe looking towards the staircase to make sure that his brother wasn't coming back, and then he put the gun away and took a step inside the room. He looked at Sansa, and she tried to keep a serene expression despite the distress she suddenly felt. Sansa could see in Sandor's gray eyes that he was sorry; sorry for not having been there before Gregor appeared, sorry for not having known that he was coming. Sorry for the fact that now he had to take her back. Sorry because her little bubble of safety had been burst in the air without notice.

Sansa wanted to cry. She didn't want to go back to King's Landing, not after having known peace there in Tarth. Going back meant many horrible things for her, for them! She wouldn't see Sandor every hour of the day. She wouldn't enjoy time with him. She wouldn't be able to kiss his lips, or sleep by his side at night, sharing her bed with him. She would have to go back to a life of misery, of suffering and crying and pain and lies. She would have to go back to her job, back to pretending that she was the happiest woman in the world when in reality she was screaming inside, silently begging for anyone to come and save her. She would have to get married to that monster that once she so naively had believed that would make her happy.

Sansa could see in Sandor's face that he was thinking similar, if not the same, things that she was. She wanted Sandor to tell her that everything would be okay. She wanted him to pick her up in his arms and take her away and be her knight in shining armor and save her from that hell, even though she knew that was impossible; she had accepted it long ago.

...She wanted him to hold her and kiss her one last time. Just one more time before having to leave that little paradise of theirs.

Sandor didn't say nor do anything. He just cursed under his breath before turning around looking devastated and leaving her alone in her room, which had been theirs till moments ago, so that she could get ready.

Just like that, her little moment of happiness that she had experienced in the last days was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They couldn't stay in paradise forever, could they? :(
> 
> Ah, Gregor! Needless to say, this is the "sweet" (cough cough) side of him... I wouldn't like to meet him angry.


	19. White, Ivory and Cream.

Sandor knocked on the door that led to the office, and when he was given permission to enter he stepped inside, closing the door again behind him. Joffrey was sitting behind the desk in front of the window, reading the newspaper as usual. He was smoking a cigar, and there was a glass of brandy on the desk. Sandor took a few steps forward to approach the desk; Joffrey had called him to come to his office shortly after they arrived from the airport, but he didn't look away from the newspaper of even talk for at least a minute before apparently finally noticing that his bodyguard was standing in front of him.

"Ah, Sandor!" he exclaimed with a half polite and half mocking smile on his face while he folded the newspaper and left it on the desk next to his glass of brandy. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, I'm pleased that you are back."

"You sent my brother to go and get us," Sandor reminded his boss.

"Yes. I expected Robb Stark to stay in town for a couple of weeks more, but he finally left, so I didn't see why you should stay away much longer. Besides, my fiancée needs to be here. There are many events coming up."

Sandor raised his eyebrows. Joffrey could have just picked up his phone and called him to order him to fly back with Sansa to King's Landing, instead of sending Gregor to get them. But Sandor knew Joffrey's game. He had wanted to catch Sansa doing anything that she wasn't supposed to do so that he would have an excuse to let Gregor torture her, and he had sent Sandor away so that there would be no one looking after the girl. Luckily, Sandor had gotten back to the mansion before his fucking brother had time to come up with any ideas.

Joffrey picked up his cup of brandy and took a sip from the drink before frowning.

"Did anything interesting happen while you were away?"

"Interesting?"

"Yes, interesting. My fiancée often does odd things when she's not under my watch," Joffrey said then. He had lowered his tone of voice, which acquired a dark and threatening ring.

Sandor held his boss's gaze defiantly. He had always looked at Joffrey with sincere indifference, sometimes maybe even dislike when no one was looking. However, since he found out all those things about Joffrey in Tarth, he couldn't stop himself from looking at Joffrey in that way. Joffrey meant to harm Sansa while Sandor only wanted to protect her; his feelings were much stronger than mere dislike now. It was a silent battle between two men for the fate of a woman. But Sandor was unable to openly fight that battle, and all that was left to him was that silent defiance that he transmitted through his eyes and Joffrey was too stupid to notice.

 _Yes, many "interesting" things happened. Your fiancée and I had an affair,_ he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and he didn't say it. _Also, I helped her reunite with her sister, who is trying to kill you and is now part of a group considered to be terrorist by half the world. And I discovered you are a sick and fucking psychopath._

"No," he said instead.

"Nothing at all?" Joffrey insisted, narrowing his eyes.

For a second, Sandor feared that they had been discovered. That the camera was indeed working and he had been mistaken, or that someone had seen them, or that there were bugs and listening devices, hidden cameras, anything, and Joffrey was just trying to get a confession out of him. Instead of panicking, he searched in Joffrey's face any sign of that, but he couldn't find any; his boss was just curious.

"No. Your fiancée just kept to herself most of the time. She read in her room, swam in the pool, watched television in the living room, practiced her singing and ate in the dining room. I was around doing my own stuff."

Joffrey smiled, satisfied with the answer.

"Good! I'm surprised you weren't bored to death. I have to admit I've missed you around here, dog. Meryn and Boros are complete morons and useless."

"I could have told you that ages ago."

"Don't worry, from now on you'll be resuming your services to me. I fired Sansa's old bodyguards, they were even more useless than Meryn and Boros, and I hired new ones. You don't have to suffer her any longer, and they'll make sure that she's safe."

To Sandor, those news felt like a knife in the belly. Sansa had been assigned new bodyguards and wouldn't be needing him anymore? But that meant that he would see her so frequently anymore. He wouldn't have an excuse to be alone with her, he would be able to talk to her, kiss her in secret... He would have to suffer the torture of seeing her from afar, like he had done many times before, and not be able to get close to her.

He maintained his composure, knowing that he couldn't give any of his thoughts or feelings away or he would be in deep, deep, deep trouble. Or perhaps not. Perhaps Joffrey would be amused by the knowledge that his bodyguard had feelings for his fiancée, and long as he believed that Sansa wasn't attracted even a little bit to the burned man. Knowing Joffrey, Sandor suspected that he would think that he was torturing Sansa if he forced Sandor's presence upon her. While that would play in his favor, Sandor knew that it would be unwise to even try to see if he was right.

"Are you sure they are good bodyguards?" he asked, keeping his normal time of voice. Raspy. Indifferent.

"Yes, they were recommended to my grandfather, and only the best is recommended to him. They are not as good as you, but obviously I'm keeping the best for myself. If there is any other attack anytime soon I prefer that Sansa gets killed and not me."

Sandor's hands closed and turned to fists. He almost took a step forward and was incredibly close to giving in to his desire of grabbing Joffrey by the neck of his shirt and punch him in the face until all his teeth were missing and his pretty face ruined.

 _You son of a bitch!_ Sandor barked in his mind.

Joffrey didn't notice Sandor's rage, he was too distracted by whatever perverse thought were crossing his mind at that moment. His usual grin was spread across his face and his eyes were full of delight while he smoked his cigar.

"You know, Clegane, it's been a very interesting week, you've missed a lot of things here in the mainland. I suppose you were having fun, lost there in paradise, but you wouldn't even believe me of I started telling you what had been going on here."

"Surprise me," Sandor rasped between gritted teeth, still working in containing his fury.

"For starters, the odds are in my favor. Dorne is mine!" the young Governor exclaimed, quite pleased with himself. "And the Reach is also going to be mine. I'll crush Robb Stark in the election like a cockroach, and you'll be the bodyguard of the President of Westeros. How do you like that?"

"I'm static," the bodyguard rasped, the sarcasm palpable in every syllable. "Any more "wonderful" news?"

"Yes. Margaery Tyrell is pregnant."

Those words actually made Sandor react. He stared at Joffrey with wide eyes, and processed the news in his head. Margaery Tyrell? Pregnant? Impossible!

A second later he recovered from the initial shock, he ached his eyebrow.

"I suppose Renly Baratheon had nothing to do with that..." he murmured, knowing perfectly fine what Joffrey's expression meant. The prick looked like he had won the fucking Olympics.

Joffrey shook his head and smoked from his cigar again with an air of superiority that was completely sickening.

"Obviously everyone is going to believe that Margaery became pregnant of her husband shortly before his tragic death... However, we both know that it was someone else who did the planting," Joffrey said. "That child is mine."

Sandor was even more infuriated then than he was before. Now not only did Sansa have to stand that her murderous and abusive future prick of a husband cheated in her, now she would also have to stand him having a bastard with his lover. It was humiliating, even though Sansa couldn't care less about Joffrey. Sandor knew that it would be hypocrite to be angry at Joffrey for the cheating part, because she herself was cheating on him with Sandor, but at least she wasn't fooling around getting pregnant... Sooner or later, the truth about that bastard would come out to the rest of the world, secrets like those were hard to keep in the modern world, and then everybody would think that Sansa was exactly what Sandor had thought of her at first: that she was a stupid gold-digger that was stuck with her husband's humiliations so that she could keep benefitting from his money and power.

Or maybe, it could actually be useful to Sansa. Maybe that little result of the affair of Joffrey and Margaery could help her to finally get rid of him for good.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked regarding Margaery's pregnancy.

Joffrey sighed. "Well, I can't marry her, obviously, even though she would be the ideal match. But she's recently widowed from my own uncle, and the fact that the whole world will think the baby is his will not help at all. Plus, I would have to break off my engagement to Sansa, and that is something in definitely not going to do. Margaery might be from a richer family, but Sansa's family is more influential. They are my political enemies, and Sansa is my weapon against them. If I leave her I will have the entire North wanting my head. It's better that things stay as they are. My relationship with Margaery will continue being a secret affair that only you know of, and her baby will be my beloved cousin, nothing more."

"When is the wedding?" Sandor suddenly blurted out without even thinking. The question was just eating at him, and he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the dreaded day was coming closer and closer. Before he just thought of it as some tedious event like any other that he was forced to attend because of his job. Now, however, the wedding was a source of mental and physical torture for him.

"April 15," Joffrey said, sounding bored. "I'm not particularly excited, but I also can't wait to have Sansa as my wife. Then she will be only mine, and I will be able to do with her as I please..."

Joffrey never knew how close he had been to have his skull smashed in at that moment, had it not been because the butler suddenly opened the door and came inside the office, stopping Sandor from trying to attack his own boss right then and there. Both men looked at the elderly butler and wondered what he was doing interrupting so suddenly the conversation between the Governor and the bodyguard.

"Forgive me, sir, but Mrs Stark is at the phone," the butler informed Joffrey. "She wishes to speak with you."

"Which one?"

"Governor Stark's mother, sir."

Joffrey rolled his eyes, irritated.

"Ugh, that woman. I thought I was finally rid of her..." he grunted as he picked up the phone in his desk and made a gesture with his hand to the butler to indicate that he could leave. The butler left the office, and Joffrey greeted the waiting Mrs Stark in the phone. "Mrs Stark? It's so good to hear from you!"

Sandor could have laughed at Joffrey's fake polite and nice tone, had he not been so infuriated by the entire previous conversation that they had been having. Joffrey's time didn't match at all his bored and irritated and less than polite facial expression, which made it look like he wanted to be shot and die rather than having to talk with his future mother-in-law.

"I trust that you had a good trip back to Winterfell?" Joffrey asked, smiling only because of the prospect of having all the Starks far away from him and King's Landing. However, his little smile dropped and his expression became miserably annoyed when he got his answer. "What do you mean, you are still in King's Landing?!"

For a second there, his real mood almost reached the surface and was noticed at the other side of the line, but he was lucky and Catelyn Stark didn't notice the desperation with which the Governor of the Crownlands asked that question.

"Yes, she's here... You want to what? Buy the dress with her? _Of course n-!_ " again, almost another mistake. Joffrey stopped mid sentence to control his voice and his anger; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then he faked a sweet smile for the woman speaking to him on the phone. Sandor had no idea what was going on. "Of course you can accompany your daughter to get her dress, ma'am. Sansa was going to go with my mother and sister, but I'm sure she would love to have her mother there..."

Joffrey clenched his jaw, and Sandoe his his satisfaction. While there was a Stark in the city next to Sansa he could not harm her, and neither could he send her away a second time unless he waned to be suspicious.

"Sansa is resting right now, Mrs Stark, she's tired from her flight. But I will tell her about your plans... Thank you, have a good day, Mrs Stark. Goodbye."

As soon as he said goodbye, Joffrey slammed the phone down and cursed under his breath.

"God, that insufferable woman!" he exclaimed, letting his frustration out finally. "She's still in the fucking city! Those idiots told me they would be gone yesterday!"

"Perhaps you should have let us stay in the island a few more days," Sandor rasped, wishing that was the way thing had been like, but they weren't. However, he knew that the little bird would be overcome by joy if she could see her mother again.

"Perhaps, but I can't send her away again. I'll have to let her go with her mother... Well, my mother will be there, so there's nothing to worry about..."

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her?"

"No, it won't be necessary this time. As I said, she has her own bodyguards now, you won't have to see her again until the night of the Oscars."

The Oscars, right. The little bird had been talking a lot about them during their time in the island, and she was incredibly excited about it. Sandor had never cared about things like those, he considered those events useless and stupid, but he knew how important it was to her. The fact that she was nominated was the recognition of her own work, the recognition of something that she had done on her own, with her own talent. It was something that she had done without Joffrey; if she won those awards, they were hers and only hers. Sandor knew how much Sansa needed that after all he had learned about her that week; even if she didn't win, they were a necessary distraction for her.

"I might tell you to keep an eye on her when she goes on tour," Joffrey said then. "Her new bodyguards can protect her just fine, but they can't... _control_ her. Not in the way that I want her controlled."

"I understand," Sandor nodded.

_You want her to not be able to put a single foot outside the hotel room because you are a paranoid sick bastard that thinks she's going to rat you out at the slightest chance. She's too terrified of you to even try it, you worthless bastard._

Joffrey made the same dismissive hand gesture to him that he had done to the butler moments ago.

"Now get out of my sight, I have work to do," he said, having lost interest in conversation for the time being.

Sandor nodded his head and didn't longer there for a single second longer. He left the office, relieved that he was finally able to get away from the Governor. It was incredible how much he had come to hate the man that he had been protecting for 23 years, only because of the little bird.

 _Sansa is a thousand times more valuable than him,_ he thought.

That little shit... He wished he could tell the Governor to fuck off, but after having killed the Vice President, Sandor doubted that anything would stop Joffrey for doing the same to his own bodyguard, and Sandor wanted his head to stay in his shoulders and all his organs to stay in place and intact as well.

Sandor walked, and his steps took him to the staircase of the mansion. He went up the steps, and without noticing his own steps took him towards the hallway where the room of the little bird was located. When he realized that he looked up and he saw her door, which was open. They had just brought in her luggage and they had left it inside her room. One of the butlers was leaving the room, and just then Sansa appeared at the other end of the hallway and walked up to her room. When she saw Sandor standing there she gasped slightly, and the bodyguard noticed the hurt in her eyes. Was she in pain because of the same reason as he was? Because she had gotten the news that he wouldn't be able to be near her in a long time? Was she aching for his presence as much as he was aching for her?

He wanted to close the distance between them and hold her in his arms. He wanted to walk up to her and kiss her until they were both out of breath, and fighting that urge was one of the most difficult things he had had to do in his life.

He almost couldn't resist, he almost gave in to his desire; he would have been so stupid and foolish if it hadn't been for the footsteps in the staircase behind him that alerted him of the presence of someone else there. Sansa noticed it as well and gasped again, and then she rushed inside her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Sandor gulped and he turned around in time to see Cersei Lannister behind him, wearing the same smug expression as always. She didn't even greet him (not that he cared) and then she just made her way to her own room. Once he was out of aight Sandor turned his head again to stare at the closed door of Sansa's bedroom.

He took a few steps forward until he reached the door. He lifted his hand, almost grabbing the doorknob to open the door and enter the room, but his hand stopped midair and turned into a fist. He couldn't do that now. They were in King's Landing, his presence was no longer welcome in Sansa's bedroom.

He listened closely and he heard the sound of the girl sobbing close to the door. Perhaps she was leaning against it, sitting on the floor while she cried quietly. It wasn't the first time that he heard her sobbing, but this time, hearing her at the other side of a door and being unable to comfort her made it a thousand times harder to listen to it without feeling... guilt? Yes, guilt. That's what he felt.

"Little bird..." he rasped lowly, almost inaudibly.

Then he walked away.

* * *

 

The next day, Cersei and Myrcella picked up Sansa after breakfast and they drove downtown to meet with Catelyn Stark, as had been agreed the day before. Sansa wasn't too thrilled about going out that day (she had spent the entire previous day and night locked inside her room laying down in her bed, not wanting to do or think about anything) and had practically been forced out of bed by her always-enthusiastic future sister-in-law, but her mood changed immediately after seeing her mother waiting for her in the street, and also her sister-in-law Talisa and her childhood best friend, Jeyne Poole.

"Mom!" she exclaimed with the happiest of smiles in her face, and she ran away from the limo to go and give a hug to her mother. Her new bodyguards followed her, not happy at all by her impatience, but she wasn't going to wait for them. She didn't like having new bodyguards. She didn't like her old bodyguards either... There was just one bodyguard she wanted by her side.

Sadness filled her up after that thought, but it vanished when she hugged her mother, who was smiling just as happily as her.

"Sansa! Oh, you look beautiful!" her mother said, looking at her. "My, my! That island has done wonders to you!"

"Sansa is always beautiful," Talisa said while she went to hug her sister-in-law as well. Sansa greeted her happily, and squealed when she saw her childhood best friend Jeyne.

The only one that did not seem happy there was Cersei Lannister, who was looking at Talisa and Jeynewith a frown.

"I didn't know you two were coming..." she murmured in a less than cheerful tone.

Catelyn Stark glared at her. Both women had never particularly liked each other, even though their husband had been childhood best friends and had worked together until their deaths.

"Is there any problem, dear Cersei?" Catelyn asked coldly.

Cersei glared at her before smiling a fake sweet smile.

"None at all..."

 _She wants to control everything,_ Sansa thought bitterly. _Her son has told her to watch my every move, and there's too many people here already. They were only expecting my mother._

Well, her family and her friends were there now. She wasn't going to waste the opportunity to spend time with them, even though the reason why they were spending time together in the first place was a nightmare for her. Those women were there as her entourage to go and get her wedding dress.

Well, if she had to do it, she best do it quickly.

"Shall we go in?" she asked, looking at the bridal store in front of them. Everyone else nodded, and they went inside the store.

As soon as they entered the place they were surrounded by body-length mirrors, mannequins with long and beautiful wedding dresses, gowns of all kinds of styles and shapes and shades of white and ivory and cream, and white and light yellow and pink flowers. The place was full of light, and it was like a dream. Sansa would have loved everything about it if she had been in another place, in another time, walking inside that store to find a dress to wear in a happy day and not in the nightmare that her wedding was for her.

She managed to hide her true emotions and cover them with a bright and big smile, fooling everyone into believing that she was overjoyed by what she was seeing. Behind her, her mother, Talisa, Myrcella and Jeyne gasped and sighed, enchanted by the place. Cersei didn't react in any particular way. She looked more like she was being assaulted by memories, and not particularly happy ones.

"I haven't been in a store like this in twenty-five years..." she finally murmured while she looked around, but everyone ignored her.

"I can't believe you've waited so long to get your dress, Sansa!" her mother exclaimed. "It's the most important thing for the bride!"

 _No,_ she wanted to say. _The most important thing is to have a loving groom waiting for me at the altar, someone who wants to marry me because he loves me and really wants me. Someone to whom I want to swear eternal love and with whom I want to spend the rest of my life with. Instead I'm going to have Joffrey waiting for me at the altar."_

A clerk came to the entrance to the store to greet them. She had been waiting for them, and because of who they were the store had been closed only for them, so that Sansa could find her dress in peace with no one else bothering her. At least she would have that small piece of comfort.

After the introductions the clerk (whose name was Laura) took them to an inner part of the bridal store, where she told the six women to sit down while she looked for dresses for Sansa. She asked which kind of dresses she liked: mermaid, ball gown, with lace, bling, modern, classic, what color (she had a really strong urge to say pink, just to scandalize Cersei)...

Sansa asked for all of them because, apart from the fact that she didn't know what she wanted, she couldn't care less. She wasn't a little girl anymore, dreaming about the perfect wedding and the perfect dress. She had always known what she had wanted back when she was naive enough to think that she could get what she wanted. Now that she wasn't even going to get the wedding that she wanted, why even bother with the dress?

No one noticed her lack of enthusiasm because she was still hiding it beneath a radiant smile.

"I'll come back with some dresses for you," Laura said with a smile.

She left for a couple of minutes and then came back to take Sansa to a dressing room. She had put the dresses there for her, and she helped Sansa to get into her first gown. After she was ready she returned to the part of the store where her entourage was waiting for her.

She was met with happy exclamations and "aaawwww"s from everybody when they saw her walking towards them in a long mermaid strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection there. She thought that she was staring at a stranger.

She had to admit that she looked beautiful in that dress. It suited her body perfectly and enhanced her curves, and made her look like a goddess. The white fabric contrasted greatly with her auburn hair, making it look fiery red. She liked the dress, but she didn't love it. She didn't love her in the dress. She didn't love her image as a bride.

"I love this one!" Myrcella exclaimed behind her, and Jeyne and Talisa agreed silently with her, nodding their heads.

"I think you look very pretty in this dress, Sansa," her mother said.

"Um, don't you think that it is a little... ordinary?" Cersei asked, frowning while she stared at Sansa. "There's nothing particularly special to the dress. You should wear something worthy of your status."

"Maybe it is too plain," Jeyne nodded, and Myrcella agreed with her, though Catelyn and Talisa rolled their eyes. Both Mrs Stark had never liked too much luxury, unlike the Lannisters, but Cersei insisted.

Sansa changed into another dress and returned to the mirror with a princess-like ball gown. Everyone disliked that one, because it was too puffy. The next one was a dress with a corset, which Catelyn and Talisa thought that was too vulgar, and even Sansa agreed to that. She tried a dress with bows, another one with bling everywhere (which Myrcella adored), a dress with black lace, a lace with embroidery, with lace everywhere, with tulle, with crystals, with pearls, feathers, flowers... Nothing seemed to be the perfect thing for everybody, and Sansa was starting to grow restless. She felt like some kind of doll, playing dress up for the amusement of everyone else. She wanted to scream louder and louder with every new dress that she tried on, she wanted to stop that nonsense and tell everyone that she didn't want to be there anymore, she didn't want any of it, but she couldn't and that made her want to scream even more with the hopes that somebody would hear her and rescue her from that hell.

"I'm tired," she finally protested at one point when she was told to go back to the dressing room.

"Oh, sweetheart, just a little longer," her mother said with a sweet smile. "No one ever said that finding the perfect dress was an easy task."

"Can we just try another day?" she asked. On one side she wanted to get rid of having to find the dress as soon as possible, but in the other hand she couldn't deal with it for a minute longer.

"We can't push this back anymore," Cersei said then. "The wedding is three months away, and with your tight agenda, finding another moment to get the dress will be a miracle."

"You do need to have the dress before you go on tour," Talisa said, and everyone else agreed.

Sansa looked at the dress she was wearing in the mirror. It had a tight bodice with a V neckline, and the skirt of the gown fell in different layers.

 _This feels wrong,_ she thought.

In other circumstances maybe she would have liked the dress. She did like the dresses that she was trying, but every time that she out them on she felt that she was putting a stain on something that should be pure and beautiful. She should be happy, she should be wanting to do all that. She should love to be a bride, and dream about walking down the isle in one of those beautiful dresses...

Maybe if the groom was someone else...

An image invaded her mind then. She pictured herself walking down the aisle with her perfect, white wedding dress, holding a beautiful bouquet in her hands, and with a long veil covering her face until the moment when the groom would remove it. She pictured herself reaching the altar and standing to face her soon-to-be husband, and then she pictured him gently removing her veil to look at her face... and the eyes that she found looking at her weren't cruel and green, but gentle and stormy grey instead.

Her lips moved, silently pronouncing his name. _Sandor_. Sansa came out of her day-dreaming and found herself standing in front of the mirror, still looking at the dress she was wearing. After imagining Sandor as the groom waiting for her at the altar she blushed furiously without being able to stop herself. The women behind her saw her and laughed.

"Sansa! You are blushing! What is it?!" Jeyne asked excitedly. "Is this the dress?!"

Sansa shook her head. She felt frustrated and angry after waking up from the day-dreaming, and two solitary tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them off with her hands, but everyone had already seen her crying. Instead of thinking that something was wrong with her they just believed that she was emotional like all the normal brides were on days like those.

"Oh, Sansa, don't cry!" Myrcella said. She stood up and went to hug Sansa, trying to cheer her up. "You look beautiful in everything, I'm sure you'll find the perfect one!"

"I'm sure you are right..." Sansa said.

"Should I try to find more dresses?" Laura asked then.

"Y-yes," Sansa said, wanting to find something. She would just try a few more on, see which one everyone liked, and just purchase that one. "I just have one small request. I know something that I want for the dress."

"Oh! What is it?"

Everyone looked at Sansa expectantly, filled with curiosity to know what detail she wanted for the dress. She took a deep breath.

"I... I don't want a white dress."

Her entourage gasped again, but this time in a shocked and slightly horrified way. Cersei was the loudest one of them all. Laura was the only one that didn't react that way.

"No white? Okay, what would you like the dress to be like, then?"

"Ivory, or cream. I don't care, just not white."

"Perfect, let me go and check what we have," Laura smiled, but before she could leave Cersei Lannister stopped her.

" _Wait_!" Sansa's future mother-in-law glared at her. _"Not white_?! This isn't the wedding of some common citizen, this is the wedding of the Governor! Do you know what kind of comments wedding dresses that are not white raise around here?!"

 _I don't want to dress in white, not for your son,_ Sansa wanted to yell. If it was up to her, she would marry Joffrey dressed in neon pink of she could, though maybe black would probably be more fitting.

"I don't want a white dress," she insisted, but Cersei ignored her.

"What nonsense! Bring more dresses, all white," she ordered to Laura.

"Lots of women get married in ivory or cream," Catelyn intervened, but Cersei scoffed.

"Maybe in the North, but not here. The gods know well that all respectable women dress in pure white in their wedding day. Or maybe you want the press saying negative comments about Sansa in the newspapers and magazines?"

Sansa resisted the urge to laugh.

_Maybe I'm not a respectable woman, after all..._

There was no way of fighting off Cersei. She wouldn't let Sansa purchase a wedding dress that wasn't white, and in the end Sansa just gave up.

Laura brought three more dresses. The first two ones were horrible; they were the most vulgar and ridiculous things that Sansa had ever seen in her life. The third one, however, was beautiful. As soon as she tried it on she knew that everyone would choose that one. She liked the dress, but she despised having to wear it under those circumstances. However, when she said yes to the dress, she managed to put on a fake but very convincing happy smile, and everyone cheered and clapped when she confirmed that she wanted that dress.

 _At least everyone else is happy,_ she thought, looking at her family and friend and the Lannister women.

She went back to the dressing room to change back into her normal clothes, but this time her mother went with her to help her out of the dress, and to talk a little bit away from eavesdropping ears. Once they were locked inside the dressing room, Catelyn gave Sansa a serious look that Sansa hadn't seen in a while.

"What was that?" her mother asked her. Sansa frowned.

"What was what?"

"That back there. You didn't look like you."

"What do you mean?"

"A year ago, you would have been over the moon on a day like this. You always talked about your wedding, remember? You had everything planned as a little girl. The dress, the church, the decorations, the venue, the reception, the flowers... Even the groom! Well, you got the groom you wanted, and now it's time for the wedding you've always wanted, but..."

Sansa sighed. "But what, Mom?"

Catelyn sighed the same way as her daughter. She looked worried and confused. She shook her head.

"I don't know! I look at you at times and... I see a woman in love!"

"You do?" Sansa asked, even more confused that her mother that time. She realized her mistake and asked again, this time in a more curious way. "I mean... you do?"

"Yes. Back there, when you were trying on the other dress and you blushed? Oh, sweetie, you looked adorable. Like a beautiful angel. Your eyes lit up like they were stars!"

"They did?" she asked again, softly this time, incredibly surprised. Her mother smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I've seen that kind of look only on women that are very in love... Which is why I don't understand why you suddenly have this attitude about the wedding."

"I don't have an attitude," Sansa retorted.

"That's precisely the problem. It looks like you are constantly thinking about other things and are not interested in this wedding! Is there anything wrong?"

Yes, many things were wrong, terribly wrong. She was getting married to an abusive man that happened to be the murderer of her father. It was worse than wrong, and Sansa couldn't say anything about it.

"Nothing is wrong, Mom, I'm just so tired... I travelled yesterday, and I didn't get much sleep." She wasn't really lying. She hadn't slept at all that night, and she was exhausted.

"Oh, yes, that trip must have been terrible. I still can't believe that Joffrey sent that bodyguard to accompany you, he scares me."

"Gregor Clegane is terrifying," Sansa agreed, remembering what a bad time she had had when Gregor showed up in the mansion out of nowhere.

"Oh, I didn't mean that one. The other, his brother, the one with the burned face. I hear they call him the Hound?"

Sansa felt a fire inside of her, caused by the irritation that she felt after hearing something remotely bad said about Sandor. She turned her head to face her mother and unconsciously glared at her.

"Sandor is a wonderful per..." she stopped mid-sentence, realizing her mistake. She blushed and lowered her gaze. "I mean... Clegane is a great bodyguard. The best one, actually."

She didn't notice the way in which her mother locked at her then, completely stunned after that revelation. Sansa but her lower lip nervously, hoping that she hadn't really messed things up. Luckily, her mother just shook he head and apparently decided to ignore that last bit of their conversation, returning to the matter of the wedding and the dress.

"Why don't you want a white gown?"

Sansa shrugged.

"I just don't want one. I prefer something a little bit darker."

"Cersei is right, the traditions here are not the same as in the North for wedding dresses. Incredibly, they are more conservative here..." Catelyn chuckled, but suddenly her smile faded, and her expression became one of concern. "You are not pregnant, are you?"

Sansa could have choked. She opened her eyes wide and gaped.

"No!"

"I was just asking! But good, it's better that way for now..."

They managed to get Sansa out of the dress and she changed into her normal clothes, a pretty dress with floral print and heels. While she was outing her hair in a ponytail, Catelyn asked her another question.

"The Oscars are just a few weeks away. Do you know what you are going to wear? Cersei talked about maybe going to another store after this one to get you a dress. She envisions you in a crimson or a gold and black dress, for some reason..."

 _Lannister and Baratheon colors,_ Sansa thought bitterly while she glared at her reflection in the mirror. _They want to turn me into one of them and show it to the whole world._

No, she would not have it. The wedding would be Joffrey's dress, and his smoky could do with her whatever they wanted that day, but the Oscars was her night. Only hers. She would not be future Mrs Baratheon that day. She would not be property of the Lannisters. She would be her own woman, her own star. She would be Sansa Stark that night.

For the first time that day, she smiled genuinely, and rather defiantly.

"Don't worry about that, Mom. I already have my dress."

"Really? How is it?"

"You will see... It's a surprise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying how the chosen wedding dress is on purpose!


	20. Red Carpets, Green Flames and Golden Statues.

The auditorium of the Dolby Theatre was still mostly empty, except for the guest that were already starting to enter and full the upper seats, the cameras, and the security personnel. Half of them were there for the cinema stars that would be soon filing those empty seats. The other half was there for Joffrey.

As the fiancé of one of the nominees for Best Actress and also Best Original Song, he had been invited to be a guest during the ceremony and accompany his future wife during that important day of her life and her career. But after the attack that he had suffered back in King's Landing, no one wanted to take a big risk of having him being attacked again; the US definitely did not want a Governor and possible future President of another nation killed within it's borders, hence the excessive security that day. Instead of walking by his fiancée's side down the red carpet, he had arrived early and he had been amen immediately inside the Dolby Theatre so that he wouldn't be out in the open where it was dangerous. He had been assigned one of the front line seats, next to where Sansa was going to sit down, and he was waiting while surrounded by security for the time being. Later they would leave to different corners of the auditorium and only Sandor would stay there to personally guard the Governor. He had been assigned a seat next to him and Sansa so that he would be right there if his services were needed.

He hated waiting. He was a very impatient man, but at least he was handling the wait better than Joffrey, who wouldn't stop protesting.

"What is taking so long?!" he exclaimed, irritated.

"The actors have to walk down the red carpet and pose for the cameras. I think," Sandor rasped, bored.

He had never liked that kind of extravaganzas, he thought that they were stupid, a waste of time, pointless, and ridiculous. However, Sansa was going to be there and that ceremony was part of one of her dreams. The ceremony that night as something that was only hers and not Joffrey's or the Lannirter's. Being nominated was something that she had earned herself with her own work and no one could take it away for her, and Sandor knew how important that was for Sansa. Just because of that resin he was happy to be there, sharing the moment with her in the only way that he could.

All the upper seats were already filled with people and the auditorium was full of chatter. The stars would start arriving soon. They waited.

Ten minutes later the furs actors and actresses started making their appearance and finding their seats. Sandor turned his head around to see if he could find Sansa among them, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She must be arriving later, he thought.

Joffrey also notices Sansa's absence from the group of people that were entering the auditorium and grunted, irritated.

"Dog, go outside. See if she's already there," he ordered, unamused. Joffrey hated being there, in a place were Sansa was going to be the center of attention instead of him. "Keep a close eye on her when you see her."

"Aye, boss," Sandor rasped as he stood up and started walking towards the entrance. There he followed the way out until he reached the grand carpeted staircase of the Dolby Theatre, and he made his way down to the bottom, walking then into the hallway outside, where the red carpet was.

The place was batshit crazy. It was crowded with screaming fans and viewers on one side, cameras constantly flashing on both sides, reporters, important cinema people, guests, bodyguards, and actors.

He distractedly looked around, observing the people in the red carpet. He knew that almost everyone in that place was fucking famous, but he had absolutely no idea who any of them were. There was a couple posing for the cameras; he had blond hair and she was brunette, with big red lips and high cheekbones. Behind them was a young girl with huge blue eyes and long blonde hair, smiling to the cameras excitedly. Not far away was a middle aged man with dark hair and eyes and olive skin that wore sunglasses and had an extravagant air about him. The only person that Sandor recognized in that place was a white haired man that seemed to be in his early seventies; Sandor didn't know his name, nor did he care what it was, but he remembered seeing the man in some movies that used to watch when he was a kid before his life became hell. They were some movies about outer space knights and a guy that went around on adventures. Sandor remembered bitterly the time when he wanted to be like the people in those movies, until he stopped being a stupid and foolish little boy and grew up to understand that the world was cruel and not a fucking movie.

He was starting to feel uncomfortable there, near all those people in fancy clothes and fake smiles. He hated the flashing cameras. He didn't fail to notice the horrified looks that some people were giving him as soon as they started noticing him and the scars on his face. He was completely out of place in that picture.

 _It's all pretty faces in here_ , he growled in his mind as he looked around, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt in that sea of fame and flashes. _Little bird, where are you?_

Just as if she had heard him, a black limo pulled over in front of the red carpet at that precise moment. A dozen cameras were already waiting expectantly for the star to come out, wondering who it was. A man walked over to the limo to open the door.

"It's Sansa Stark!" someone in the front shouted, and the cameras started flashing immediately, eager to get a good photograph of the young and foreign beauty.

Sandor's breath caught in his chest when he saw Sansa coming out of the limo. He had always known that she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, but in that moment he could swear that what he was looking at wasn't a woman but a goddess instead: a goddess from the wild old North of Westeros.

She was wearing her bright auburn hair in a loose braided updo; she wasn't wearing a lot of makeup, but her eyes were bright and wild. They looked like ice glaziers that contrasted with the fire of her hair. Sandor found himself staring at her wide-eyed, unable to look away, and he felt a shiver going down his spine.

Nobody else was wearing a coat, but Sansa was. She, like the other Westerosis that had travelled with her to the US, found the weather to be very cold in contrast to the incredibly hot summer of King's Landing. Sansa was wearing a long grey wolf fur coat that only made her look even more like a goddess of the wild North. The fur became her, really; it fit her like a second skin. Sandor stared at her with admiration, and suddenly he thought that there was no way that Joffrey had allowed her to wear that coat. The wolf was the symbol of the Starks, and Sandor knew Joffrey perfectly well; now that the young politician was in the middle of a political conflict for power with Governor Stark, he wouldn't want his fiancée wearing anything that might identify her as a Stark or link her to them. But there she was, wearing the fur coat proudly like a true Stark.

But Sansa wasn't done impressing Sandor. He saw her about to take her coat off, but she stopped and bit her lip, looking down nervously. He frowned and looked at her, and when Sansa raised her head her eyes met his. She seemed surprised for a moment to see him standing there, at the other end of the red carpet staring at her. Sandor smiled an awkward half smile, being extremely self conscious of the way his scars twisted and pulled in a grotesque way, but Sansa didn't care about that. She just cared about the look of encouragement in his eyes, that finally convinced her to take her coat off and reveal the dress underneath it.

The cameras went crazy after she took her coat off, and with good reason. Even Sandor was unable to not stare in awe with his mouth wide open. Sansa stood tall and proud in a magnificent long silver satin gown, form-fitting and backless, with a train behind her. It's most impressive feature was in the bodice, that embrace Sansa's body flawlessly; it had a halter neckline, and the strap represented a wolf that encircled her neck. The wolf was made of pearls sewn into the sheer strap, with red rhinestones for eyes; the pearls were mostly white, but some varied in both size and color to create the shape of the wolf, the shading and the contour. The head of the wolf rested on Sansa's right side, and the tail on her left side. Apart from that, Sansa only wore white pearl earrings and a dark pearl bracelet, nothing else. Not even her horrible engagement ring.

Sandor gulped. He couldn't believe it; Sansa was beautiful, she was marvelous... But he knew what she was doing. She was defying Joffrey. She was defying the Lannisters. The wolf fur coat could have maybe sent a small message, but this dress... This was a completely shout out statement. The rest of the world might not notice, the people of Westeros would think that this was just a tribute to her roots, but Joffrey and his family would know perfectly well what she was saying with that dress. She was giving them the finger in the most subtle way in which she could do it, and she was doing it out in the open by wearing her family's colors and symbol during the event of her life.

She was being brave in her own way... and Sandor loved it. As much as he was suddenly worried for her because of Joffrey's possible reaction, he absolutely loved it. He recognized the bravery in Sansa's move, and he didn't even bother fitting off the smile that his pride cause him in his mouth.

 _That's my little bird..._ , he thought approvingly.

He was actually able to forget about the cameras and the flashes as he watched Sansa step forward in the red carpet and joining the other stars, posing for the reporters and for the cameras and answering to questions for interviews when they approached her. She smiled and said hi to other actors and actresses, and she thanked everybody who congratulated her on her dress. She was blushing, and Sandor thought to himself that he had never seen her so happy and at the same time so nervous before. He took a few steps forward, approaching her, and noticed the bodyguard that was following her on the red carpet. He was one of the new ones employed that Joffrey that Sandor hated.

"I'll take it from here," he growled to the bodyguard. The man looked at him and recognized him, and he left to let Sandor take his place.

Sansa saw the exchange and smiled briefly at him before turning her attention back to the reporter that was trying to ask her some questions.

"Sansa! This are the first Academy Awards for you, right? Are you excited?"

"Yes! I am so excited! I am very nervous too!" she said, blushing.

"Will you be performing tonight?"

"Yes, I will!"

That was news for Sandor, he had not known that Sansa was going to be singing. He immediately remembered the night he met her, when she was singing in her concert and he was watching her from backstage, and he thought that he really wanted her to sing again. She had promised him a song while they were in Tarth. Tonight she would be singing for millions of people all around the world that would be watching her on television, but he could pretend that her sweet voice was just for him to hear. Her sweet, sweet voice...

"Did you see your co-star Anthony already?"

"He isn't here, sadly he couldn't make it today. I'm sure he would have loved it, but duty calls!"

The reporter made a comment that Sandor couldn't quite hear, and Sansa laughed.

"Who did you bring with you?" the reporter asked then.

"My fiancé, Joffrey," Sansa explained. "He's waiting for me inside already"

"Oh, wonderful! Is he excited too?"

"Of course!" Sansa giggled. She was a wonderful actress, Sandor had to give her that. "It's a nice break from him from all the stress and the politics back home. I'm always loving in his world, now he can take a look at mine!"

"That's very nice. Have a great night, Sansa, and the best of luck to you!"

"Thank you!" Sansa waved goodbye to the reporter and walked away.

She posed for more photos, showed off her magnificent dress, smiled and looked sexy at the same time, answered more questions, waves to the fans that were watching from afar, and greeted fellow actors and actresses. Sandor quietly followed behind her, enduring the walk along the red carpet all the way until the end while he just observed her. He felt his face glued to all of her splendor that night. He wondered how in seven hells he would manage not to get caught by Joffrey or anyone else looking at her like that, like a hungry animal mouth-watering over a piece of the most delicious piece of meat in the whole world. But she was more than that. Sansa glowed that night with her own light. She was so happy and so... confident. So strong. So focused on doing what she wanted. She had left her fear and her pain and her sorrow behind for one night, and Sandor could finally take a look at what she was in all of her glory.

When Sansa was finally ready to go inside the Dolby Theater Sandor followed her towards the grand staircase and walked a few steps behind her, constantly looking around to make sure that everything was alright. Then he escorted her to the auditorium; before reaching the entrance Sansa turned her head around to look at Sandor and smiled at him once again. He smiled back briefly.

"You look beautiful," he said, making her blush even more than she had blushed before. "He is not going to like that dress, though," he looked at the pearl wolf around Sansa's neck.

She lowered her blue eyes to look at the wolf of the head and smiled. Sandor had never seen her smiling like that, with so much confidence and satisfaction. He was deeply enjoying it.

"I know," Sansa said with a faint smirk in her lips. "I won't be his tonight. This night is _my_ night, and I will be a Stark."

She looked at the front then and, holding her head high, she entered the auditorium.

Joffrey was still sitting in the front seats of the auditorium, waiting for her impatiently, but as he noticed that the seats around him were starting to be occupied he turned his head around to look to the entrance and he spotted Sansa walking towards him. He smiled at first, putting up his fake facade of the perfect fiancé for the cameras and the people around him, but then he noticed what Sansa was wearing.

Sandor could tell the precise moment that Joffrey saw the dress and he could also tell exactly what he was thinking just by looking at his expression. In a matter of two seconds his smile disappeared completely from his face, leaving behind a shocked expression that then proceeded to become utter and complete fury. Sandor had known that Joffrey was going to react like that, and so did Sansa. It was a very daring move from her part, but he admired her boldness.

Joffrey soon realized that he was in a very public place and, though mere seconds before he seemed like he was about to explode and go into one of his furious rants, he manage to compose himself and adopt a calmer attitude. As soon as Sansa reached he seat by his side he stood up and wrapped his hand around her arm, holding her while glaring at her with was apparently for everyone else around them a lover's gaze.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he hissed under his breath, barely audible. Only Sansa and Sandor were able to hear him.

Sansa didn't lose her daring and confident attitude and look. She smiled sweetly at him, tilting her head to the side a little bit.

"I'm going to my seat, what else if not?" she said in a low tone, feigning innocence. A vein in Joffrey's neck pulsed dangerously.

"You are going to be sorry," he hissed while they both say down on their seats. Sansa was still smiling.

"Am I?"

Had they been in King's Landing, Joffrey would have slapped her right then and there. But they were not in the Red Keep, they were not in King's Landing, they were not in Westeros. They were thousands of miles away from home, in Los Angeles, in another country, and Joffrey had no power over Sansa in front of all those people and cameras. He clenched his jaw and didn't say anything else, feeling awfully bitter and hateful because of the little game that his fiancée had played on him. He tried to put on a more cheerful smile so that other people wouldn't be suspicious, but he was finding it incredibly hard. Sansa, on the other hand, was finding it very difficult to stop smiling from ear to ear.

Sandor went to take the seat that had been assigned to him as Joffrey's personal bodyguard. But the young man stopped him before he had the chance to sit down.

"Clegane you are going to go backstage. Tell Meryn to take your place here."

He frowned. Sansa looked confused, but tried not to show it.

"May I ask why?" Sandor asked.

"Your face is going to scare people watching TV," Joffrey said rudely, and Sandor felt like smashing his teeth in. Sansa looked at Joffrey completely scandalized by his rudeness, but he didn't care. "And I'm sure that these people don't want to see your ugly face either. Tell Meryn to come here, his face is much less ugly than yours."

"Meryn is in the back seat, guarding the entrance," Sandor explained between gritted teeth. He had his hands clenched into fists.

"I don't care were Meryn is, being him here. Or Boros, or whoever you want, but get out of here. Go to the backstage I said, there's going to have to be someone later there to watch Sansa."

It was pointless to argue. Besides, waiting backstage until he could see Sansa there, and spy her from behind the drapes meanwhile, seemed like a very good option. He had not cherished the notion of sitting next to Joffrey the entire buggering night listening to his incessant chatter during the ceremony. Sandor nodded his head and stood up to start heading towards where Joffrey had sent him.

"Don't get too excited, Sansa, you aren't going to win any stupid awards tonight," he heard the little shit saying to Sansa in a cruel and mocking way right before he left their side. He felt his blood boil. Couldn't he leave her alone for one single moment? Was the little bird asking too much with that?! He thought that the whole ceremony was stupid, but it was very important for Sansa. She wanted this, she was excited to be in that place, and she was determined to own the night. He wanted her to enjoy the night and he wanted her to be successful.

It was the first time he wanted that for anyone ever in his life. He had never cared for anybody, he had never wanted anything for them or wished them anything good. Now, however, he wanted Sansa to have absolutely everything. The sole thought of her happiness being constantly shattered by Joffrey almost urged Sandor to turn around and punch him.

 _What the fuck is happening to you, dog?_ , a voice asked him I the back of his head.

He told Meryn to go join Joffrey and then he followed the rest of the orders and went backstage. He waited standing there, bored to death, while everything got prepared for the start of the ceremony. He watched Sansa from behind the drapes meanwhile. She was laughing during a conversation with the blonde actress he had seen before, who was seating behind Sansa; he also saw her waving hello to Shae Lannister, the actress wife of Tyrion Lannister. It surprised Sandor to see the Imp there, he hadn't noticed him until then. But yet again. If his wife was an actress in a successful film then of course that he was going to accompany her to the Oscars.

He didn't have to wait long, and once everyone was seated the ceremony started. It was hosted by a man in his early fifties, with short grayish hair and warm brown eyes. Sandor though he looked familiar, but couldn't remember his name either. He did not care about those famous people. But whoever the man was, all the females in the place seemed to be delighted to see him.

The ceremony started quickly. After a musical spectacle, they presented the Award to the best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role. Some young man in his twenties won it and went to the stage to pick it up. Then, a few awards later, came the Award for Best Foreign-Language film, which was won by a movie in which Shae had worked. She was also nominated for best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role for her role in the movie Gunslinger, Sansa's movie. She didn't win it though; she lost it to a plump actress a little bit older than her.

Sandor was still standing in a place hidden in the shadows, just at the side of the backstage, hidden from everybody but able to watch everything that was happening in the auditorium. He could see Joffrey and Sansa; Joffrey seemed to be finally a little bit entertained, though not much, and Sansa was the face of pure nervousness. Sandor wondered why, until after three awards more were given and they announced the nominees for Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Score. The music for the movie Gunslinger was one of the nominees.

 _Is this it?_ , Sandor wondered, and he focused on Sansa as they were opening the envelope to announce the winner, who was...

...Not the movie Gunslinger. Sandor felt bad for Sansa then, and he felt even worse when he saw the look of satisfaction on Joffrey's face.

_Little fucker..._

Sansa's expression wasn't sad though. She still looked as nervous as before, perhaps even more. Sandor knew why as soon as they announced the nominees for the next award. Best Original Song.

As they were opening the envelope that contained the name of the winner for that award, Sandor could see Sansa in her seat, trying to look as calm as she could but at the same time biting her lip and with her hands turned into nervous fists.

The woman that was giving out the award room the paper out of the envelope and read it silently before smiling and exclaiming:

"Gentle Mother!"

That was it. That was Sansa's song, she was the winner. The auditorium broke in applause after the announcement, and it took a moment for Sansa to process that she was the winner. She smiled from ear to eat full of joy and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes wet wide open in awe as she stood up from her seat, and then she took her hand away from her mouth and put it over her chest. She was still smiling, until Joffrey also stood up at her side. She looked at him confused, but then Joffrey kissed her full in the mouth. Everyone around them applauded even more because of it. When they parted Joffrey sat down and Sansa's face was red; everyone thought that in she was blushing adorably, when in reality she was furious.

She immediately went back to her overwhelming happiness as soon as she started walking towards the stage to pick up her Oscar for Best Original Song. The people on the stage gave her the golden statue, and Sansa stared at it amazed, not able to believe that she had actually won. She moved to stand in front of the microphone to give her acceptance speech. She was shaking a little bit, incredibly excited and nervous. She hadn't expected to win the Oscar, but now that she had it meant so much for her...

She looked up to look at the audience staring at her in the auditorium of the Dolby Theater. Not only them were watching her, people all around the world were watching her in that moment, waiting for her to speak. They were also admiring her, her beauty, and her dress. She truly liked magnificent on that stage, holding her golden statue, dressed in that incredible silver dress with the white pearl wolf. She gripped the statue more tightly and got ready to talk. Joffrey was watching her closely from his seat, wondering what she would say. She knew that she had to be careful, but that wouldn't stop her from saying what she truly wanted to say. Sandor watched her from his hidden place in the corner.

She took a deep breath, smiled again, and finally spoke while looking both at her Oscar and the audience.

"I... I don't know what to say!" she exclaimed, and she chuckled. "I wasn't... Wow, I really wasn't expecting this... I'm so honored! Thank you for this, thank you to the Academy, thank you to all the people who worked with me and helped me get here, where I am now..." She took another big breath before continuing, "I want thank my friends and my family for always believing in me and convincing me to chased dreams and getting me where I am now... My mother, Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Jon... And I want to thank... my love."

She cringed then, almost imperceptibly, and she looked at Joffrey. He was staring at her with a smug smirk on his face, and she shuddered with disgust. No one noticed, only Sandor. He was watching her very closely, noticing her every move. He had gotten to know her so well in the time he spent with her that he knew what was going on in Sansa's mind. She had to mention Joffrey; otherwise it would look very bad and strange that she didn't mention her fiancé, who had travelled there with her to accompany her. Sansa had to mentio him, but she hadn't said his name, though. She had left it very open to interpretation,

For a fraction of a second she looked towards her right- towards were Sandor was, right in the corner. It was only for less than a second, but Sandor noticed her movement just like he noticed the small smile that appeared in the corner of her lips.

"I want to thank my love," she repeated with more confidence this time, "for being there when I needed him most, for being the rock that I needed, my confidant, and for giving me the strength to carry on and not give up."

As she said those last words she locked eyes with Joffrey again, and this time she looked at him in an intense and defying way. He continued fake smiling, knowing that those words were meant as a defiance towards him; what he did not know was that those words were not fake, there were real, but they were directed towards another man.

After a silenced of about two very long and very tense seconds, which everybody mistook as a silence filled with passion, Sansa spoke one last time, wanting to address a new person. She looked down and gulped, and her blue eyes filled with tears. The bright lightening of the stage made her look radiant in that specific moment.

"And last but certainly not least... I want to dedicate this to my father," Sansa whispered, though everyone was able to hear that. "He always told me to chase my dreams, and he supported me and told me that he couldn't wait for this day to arrive someday. Now he's gone and I miss him a lot, but I know he is with me somehow."

The whole auditorium was in complete silence. You could hear a pin drop. Sansa's eyes were complete full of years by that moment, but she was still able to smile and hold herself together.

"This is for you, Dad," she said, looking at the golden Oscar in her hands. "I love you."

She put a kiss in her hand and blew it to the air softly while looking up above her, and then she smiled again and walked away from the microphone. She hugged the people who had given her the award and the whole auditorium started applauding again as she left the stage with her Oscar in hand.

There was a commercial break right after that, which everybody used to get ready for what was coming later. Sandor was yet again backstage, getting bored and checking that everything was in order. He was in a corner that was completely solitary, with no one around but himself, when suddenly Sansa approached him in a hurry. She was holding the long skirt of her dress so that she wouldn't trip and fall or rip it, and she looked once again nervous. Some years were lingering in her eyes from when she had ended her acceptance speech, but her blue irises shine brighter than the pearls of the wolf in her dress.

"Sansa," he murmured, surprised by seeing her there. "Congratulations, little bird."

She smiled, silently thanking him. Then she made sure that there was no one around them, no spying eyes, not cameras, and she looked at him in the eyes.

"I'll sing for you tonight," she whispered.

She walked away then, rushing to get to the place backstage where she was needed. Sandor watched her go until she disappeared, and stood there until he was called by one of the other bodyguards to replace one of them in the entrance of the auditorium. That worked for him, since from that place he would be able to watch Sansa as she went onstage.

 _This seems to be my lucky night_ , he thought, feeling indeed lucky to be able to watch Sansa at that moment.

He had heard before that she was going to perform that night, and she had just told him that she would sing for him. Would she sing the song that had won her an Oscar? He had read about that song, she had written it herself. Sandor didn't know anything about music or writing, but he could guess that Sansa had put a piece of herself in that song. When he listened to her singing it he would not just be hearing her voice, he would be hearing her, what she had to say, as well. He remembered her voice and how it had bewitched him in a matter of seconds. He needed to hear her sing again.

The commercial break ended, Sansa's song was introduced, the lights went off, and the music started.

The first note was from a flute. It came out of the darkness that engulfed the auditorium at that moment and allowed no one to see. The note was long and soft, and when it stopped it lingered in the air. Sandor was a tough man, not sentimental, but he had to admit that that note was the saddest thing that he had heard in his life.

The note was followed by more flute notes in different tones, all soft and lingering. It was a heartbreaking sound. It was music that, in such a simple way, told a story of heartbreak and tears and sorrow. The notes that came from the flutes didn't sound like just simply notes anymore; they were distant soft cries lost in a long, cold night.

The flute faded, and lights appeared. At first, while the last flute note was still playing, the only light that appeared was a very faint blue light that illuminated Sansa in the middle of the stage. She was standing alone in front of a microphone, surrounded by deep darkness. Her only company was the pearl wolf encircling her neck.

Before the sound of the flutes disappeared completely, a single violin started playing, continuing that string of notes that was melting the hearts of everyone listening to it. The sight of Sansa standing there in all of her glory, with her eyes closed and looking beautiful and delicate like a porcelain doll only added to the sentiment. The feeling of the music slowly started to change to add a feeling of loss, of saying goodbye to something dear...

There came a very short pause, merely a second long, before the violin started playing again joined by a delicate piano this time, and also by Sansa's voice.

" _Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray. Stay the swords and stay the arrows, Let them know a better day..._ "

The darkness behind her have way to a big screen with images. The image was showing a night sky filled his stars, but soon those stars were covered by shooting arrows that were slowly raising from the ground into the sky. Thousands and thousands of them, flying into the night all together, like a flock of wild and deadly birds. They started coming down to the ground again, and as they did they became bigger because it seemed like they were getting closer to the screen. Closer, closer, closer... The screen was the ground to which the arrows were flying, ready to attack.

The music became stronger but continued being soft and sad at the same time. So did Sansa's voice. It was slowly picking up a little bit more of rhythm, starting to give out a sense of hope mixed in between all the sadness and loss portrayed in the music.

" _Gentle Mother, strength of women, Help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, Teach us all a kinder way_."

The arrows "hit" the screen, and suddenly green flames appeared in the screen. They were at the bottom of the image, slow-burning at first, but as the music continued the became bigger and stronger. More violins and pianos joined the music, making it stinger not only in sound but in sentiment as well. It was no longer a song about fear and pain and sorrow and loss, it had become a song about hope and strength and courage. Sansa's expression changed too. The lightening over her changed from blue to the same shade of green as the flames that now completely engulfed the image behind her, and it looked that she herself was being engulfed by that same green fire. Her expression was strong and confident, and she raised her hands into the air as she readied herself to sing the rest of the song. Her eyes looked like they were filled with wildfire.

" _Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray. Stay the swords and stay the arrows, Let them know a better day_."

Sansa's eyes found Sandor then, all the way from the stage to the entrance of the dark auditorium. As she sang her last note, soft and lingering like the flute had been at the beginning, green flames started coming out from the floor of the stage around her, illuminating her in a supernatural and eerie way.

When the green flames disappeared and the music stopped, the light came backago illuminate the auditorium and everybody rose from their seats and applauded. Sansa looked at them smiling proudly and left the stage after thanking them.

Sandor was still as a statue, unable to move. He had been staring in horror at the flames, the real ones. They had frozen him in place, but seeing Sansa standing there lookintalkie that in the middle of those flames made him feel much lesshorrified, and a thousand times more amazed. That had been... He couldn't quite describe it. It had been a very strange sensation and a strange experience for him, and he did not quite know what to think of all of it...

But her voice, oh, her voice...

It took him a long moment to realize that he was crying. He hadn't noticed it until then, but he felt the wetness in his cheeks and lifted his hand to touch one of them, and his fingers became wet with his tears. He stared at his wet fingertips frowning, and then he wiped the rest of the tears away from his face, being careful that no one saw him.

Seven buggering hells, what was wrong with him? Did Sansa Stark really have that much effect on him?

He had to admit it, there was no denying it... Sansa Stark completely owned him, in every way possible. The tears that simply her voice had provoked in him, tears that no one and nothing else had ever in his life provoked in him, was all thproof he needed. It wasn't like he didn't already know it, but that was the ultimate confirmation of the truth.

The rest of the ceremony went on quickly for him. He was waiting only for one more moment, the moment that he knew that Sansa was waiting for too. Her movie had won some other awards that had been granted to other people, and now the time had come to announce the winner for Best Actress. If Sansa won that award, then it would be her ultimate victory that night. Sandor wanted that for Sansa, she served it more than anyone. She deserved a little good after having endured so many of her dreams being broken.

"And the winner is..." the woman said while she read the name, "Sansa Stark, for Gunslinger!"

Sandor felt proud. The whole auditorium broke into applause again for her, and Sansa stood up for the second time that night to go to the stage. She didn't kiss Joffrey this time, she was quicker and too happy to actually notice him at her side. She had a massive smile on her face, and when she looked back to look at Sandor for one brief second he nodded his head, showing her his support. She blushed, and hurried to the stage to pick up her second and much deserved Oscar.

Sandor wasn't sure that he was supposed to do it, but he didn't care: he applauded.


	21. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a warning for one of my real life friends that is reading this story... Morgan, DON'T read the ending!
> 
> The rest of you guys, enjoy!!! ^.^

Sansa had barely just woken up when someone knocked on her door. She was still in bed, tired after a restless night full of nightmares, and part of her wanted to ignore however was knocking. But the person that was knocking insisted, and after seeing that Sansa saying anything, the person spoke from behind the door:

"Miss Stark?" it was one of the maids. "Mr Baratheon says there is a call for you downstairs, from your mother."

As soon as she heard that Sansa kicked the bedsheets out of her way and jumped out of bed. She hurried to put on her pink silk robe because she didn't have time to put some normal clothes on, and she also put on her slippers and she combed her hair quickly with her fingers before rushing to open the door. The maid was still there and she gasped when Sansa opened the door so suddenly.

"Sorry!" Sansa excused herself and ran past the maid and down the hall. She reached the stairs and went down and walked over to Joffrey's office. There she picked up the phone, where her mother was waiting for her.

"Mom?"

_"Sansa! Hello sweetie, how are you?"_

She smiled when she heard her mother's voice over the phone. She had missed her very much; the last time Sansa saw her had been the day that they bought her wedding dress, a month ago. Joffrey didn't usually allow her to make phone calls and her Mother wasn't one to use the phone very often, so talking to her at that moment was a welcome surprise.

"Hi Mom," she said with a smile. She sat down on one of the armchairs in front of Joffrey's desk, trying to be comfortable while she spoke on the phone with her mother. "I'm fine. Is everything okay?"

_"Yes, yes, everything is okay... Things are very busy here, you know, Robb always has things to do for the campaign... But I suppose you already know that, Joffrey must be the same."_

"Yes, he is very busy," Sansa admitted.

 _Thank God_ , she thought to herself. _Like that I don't have to see him for the better part of the day and he leaves me alone._

 _"I saw you on TV!"_ her Mother continued saying. _"You were absolutely stunning… I am so sorry I couldn't call you earlier to congratulate you, but Winterfell has been chaotic the last weeks…"_

"It's okay, Mom," Sansa smiled. Her eyes focused on the window then, and she saw a couple of birds that flew in front of the glass and settled on a branch of the tree in front of the window. The sun was shinning and the sky was blue. It was a beautiful day, one of the last days of summer. Fall would be coming soon...

_"Well, Sansa, I'll repeat it. You were stunning. And congratulations for your awards! I am so proud of you."_

"Thank you Mom," Sansa said, still smiling. She was glad and happy that her mother had been able to see her that night, even though it was only through a screen and not in person, but it was still more than what they usually saw of each other.

_"And that performance… But the dress, everyone is talking about the dress here in the North."_

Sansa thought that that was a bit of interesting news. She hadn't heard or read anything of what they were saying of here in Westeros.

"Oh really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and looking away from the gardens of the Red Keep. "What do they say? Is it good or…?"

 _"People **love** it!"_ her mother giggled, obviously feeling excited. _"They are all commenting about how it was very... Stark. Silver, white... Everybody expected you to wear crimson or black or gold, but I already told you that. It's so silky, trying to get politics into every single little aspect of life. Talking about politics because of an Oscar dress..."_

"Wait, Mom, what?"

_"You know! People here are saying that the dress was too Stark. The wolf is the symbol of your brother in the political campaign, don't forget that. People are suggesting that you were sending a message of your true alliance. So silly, alliances in the Oscars... It was a coincidence, was it not, Sansa?"_

Sansa could hear the worry that suddenly invaded her mother's voice. She was sure that her mother hadn't believed what the people were saying in the North about her because of what she had worn, but they were right. She was trying to send a message, and she had succeeded. She wasn't a Lannister or a Baratheon, she was a Stark. But after Sansa's long silence, Catelyn was beginning to doubt; Sansa could sense that. She could also sense that the fact that the rumors might be true worried Catelyn.

_"Sansa..."_

"Yes?"

_"You haven't given me an answer."_

"Right. Yes, it was a coincidence," she lied. She had become a very good actress in the past few years, but that lie wasn't one of her best ones.

_"Sansa..."_

"I wore that dress because it was my favorite, and it was beautiful and different and I wanted to wear it," Sansa said again. She wasn't lying then, not completely, and she sounded very genuine. She remembered then how her sister Arya had warned her back in Tarth about her phone having a bug inside, and maybe that phone had a listening device as well. People could be listening to that conversation. Joffrey could be listening to that conversation if he wanted to. She needed to change the conversation and drift it away from her and politics and the dress before any of them said anything that could infuriate her fiancé again. "Now stop listening to those people who won't stop talking about conspiracies..."

_"It's the North, it's hard to stop listening to them, but King's Landing must be so much worse."_

"It is," Sansa admitted.

She had been back from Los Angeles for about two weeks already, and everything that people only talked about in that place was politics. Politics, politics, politics. Her only break from all that had been Los Angeles, and she had had an amazing time there even after the Oscars were over. She had known that she would be quite possibly facing Joffrey's wrath after it because of the not-so-subtle message that her dress have away, but the young man had been wiser than that. He knew that he couldn't lay a hand on her right after that event and while they were both still in the United States, he would be doomed if her did. So Sansa celebrated that she was free of him for one night while she went to the after party and had a good time without having to worry about Joffrey. That night was the only one she had had free if Joffrey and free of politics though.

"I'm surrounded by politicians here," she sighed.

 _"Your Father was a politician. Your brother is a politician. Your uncle and your grandfather too,"_ Catelyn pointed out. _"You should be used by now."_

"Father and Robb did not spend the entire dinner talking about it," Sansa protested, though she made an effort to sound indifferent. "Anyways. I'm going to go away from King's Landing a few days. I have two concerts in Highgarden and Sunspear."

_"You have two concerts now? I thought you were done with that for the moment, now that you are getting married!"_

"I was, but I wanted to do it. Since in not going to give any more concerts until way after the elections..."

_"But you have a wedding to prepare, and you are going to go away now?"_

"It's just a few days," Sansa insisted. "And the wedding is in a month."

There was silence for a few seconds...

"You will come to the wedding, won't you?" Sansa asked then, noticing how her voice broke a little bit. She fought back the tears that suddenly wanted to come out of her eyes, and waited for her mother's response. She wanted Catelyn by her side the day of the wedding; she wasn't sure that she would be strong enough otherwise.

 _"But of course, Sansa!"_ Catelym answered, surprised that her daughter would ask such a question in the first place. "I wouldn't miss that day for anything in the world. It's the must important day of your life and I am your mother."

"Thank you, Mom."

 _"Sansa..."_ Catelyn murmured. _"Are you alright?"_

"Yes. Yes... I have to go now, Mom, sorry."

_"Ok sweetheart. Have fun in your concerts."_

Sansa said goodbye and hung up the phone with with trembling fingers. She sat there on the armchair for a good five minutes staring at the phone, now doing anything, not even moving an inch of her body. Her mind was racing, going over thoughts of her family and her friends, the life she had left behind, the life she had now and the life that was awaiting for her a mere month from that day. She wanted to scream and yell and kick and cry, but she did none of that. She wanted to rebel, but she couldn't.

Instead she quietly stood up from the armchair and made sure she was leaving everything in order before leaving Joffrey's office and going back to her room. She had to get ready for a long trip, and for her last few days of freedom.

* * *

 

The bodyguards were having breakfast together in the kitchen, some of them talking and some of them just sitting there quietly while they ate. Sandor was drinking his coffee in silence, tint caring to engage in conversation with any of those morons. He tried to ignore the two bodyguards that were sitting in front of him talking about sports; they were brothers, the Kettlebacks, and they were Sansa's new bodyguards, the ones that Joffrey had hired for her. Sandor didn't like them. Months ago he would have laughed at them because their duty was to take care of the singer; now he envied them and wanted their job more than anything.

"You okay, Clegane?" one of them asked then. His name was Osmund.

"Why do you care?" Sandor grunted, annoyed by the question.

Osmund Kettleback shrugged. "You don't look good."

At the other end of the table, Meryn Trant laughed.

"Does he ever look good?" he mocked, but he shut up as soon as Sandor glared at him.

Sandor finished his coffee and stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting. He walked over to the coffee machine and poured himself another cup. Then he took a sip while he looked around, making sure that no one was looking his way. Once he made sure that no one was looking at him he took a small plastic bag out of his pocket and quickly poured the powder that it contained inside the coffee machine, mixing the powder with the drink.

He returned to the table to sit down while he finished his second cup of coffee, and as he drank he watched the three bodyguards standing up to get more coffee just like he had done.

_Yes, drink it you fuckers..._

He watched with satisfaction as all three of them drank the coffee, but he tried to maintains his expression blank the whole time. As soon as he was done drinking he left his mug in the sink and left the kitchen.

Minutes passed and he went to the Red Keep's gym, just like he always did whenever he had absolutely nothing to do. He grunted with discontent when he found Joffrey already in the gym in the company of some of the other bodyguards, training in the boxing ring with his personal trainer. Joffrey liked to fight, he liked hitting things and people. Many days he went to the ring and fought with his trainer, and sometimes even with his bodyguards, including Sandor.

Sandor was about to leave the gym, already having lost all interest in being there after seeing that Joffrey was there, but his boos had already seen him.

"Sandor!" Joffrey called him, ceasing to fight with his trainer. The other bodyguards turned their heads to look at Sandor, who was now standing near the door. "Come here!"

He didn't want to, but he didn't protest. He walked towards the ring, and as he approached it Joffrey told his trainer to get out.

"Give him a pair of gloves," he ordered.

Sandor shook his head. "There's no need."

"Why? Are you going to fight with your bare fists?"

"I'm not going to fight," Sandor rasped.

"Of course you are! I command it!"

Sandor did a great effort not to roll his eyes. There was no point in arguing with Joffrey. The trainer brought him a pair of red boxing gloves, and Sandor took his jacket off before putting them on. Then he inside the ring without much enthusiasm. He looked at Joffrey unamused; his boss was wearing yellow boxing gloves, and he was shirtless and sweaty from having been fighting for some time already. He didn't look like he had been hit during the training, but his trainer did have a quickly-swelling purple mark in his eye.

 _He probably didn't have the guts to hit the Governor back,_ Sandor thought.

Joffrey got ready to fight. He was for and strong, but nothing compared to Sandor.

"C'mon Clegane, you are the only one that always puts up a decent fight!"

Sandor sighed, not feeling like boxing with Joffrey. The twat always though that he was the best, and fought with an arrogance that made the bodyguard punch him in the face as hard as possible and break his jaw. Joffrey seemed to not be capable to erase the smug smile from his face. He got in position in front of Sandor, ready to attack or defend himself.

"Come on, dog!" he exclaimed. "What? Have you turned soft?"

Some of the other bodyguards whistled and shouted for Joffrey to hit Sandor. They also shouted for Sandor to fight. He ignored them all but he got in position nevertheless, making Joffrey smile even more. He was like a little boy playing his favorite game.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sandor asked. He wasn't concerned about Joffrey's well-being, he just didn't want any trouble if he gave his boss a black eye.

As a response to that, Joffrey attacked first. He threw a jab that Sandor ducked. The bodyguard then got in a stance while waiting for Joffrey to attack again, and everyone else got close to the ring to see better. Joffrey threw another jab and Sandor ducked again, but then he tried to throw a right hook and Sandor blocked it. Joffrey's arm hit his own, and for the first time Sandor noticed that his boss was actually quite strong. Not nearly as strong as his bodyguards, but still pretty strong after all the training and exercise. Realizing that got Sandor thinking about the times he had seen Joffrey hitting Sansa and being violent with her. Joffrey wasn't one to hold back when raising his hand and striking, and Sansa was suffering his wrath and his strength...

Sandor clenched his jaw. For a moment he saw red, and the distraction that his fury provoked him almost got him hit by Joffrey's fist; he dodged the blow in time, but the other men had started cheering in Joffrey's favor.

"You are getting old, Clegane!" he heard Boros shout. Sandor would have given him the finger in another passion, but that time he ignored the prick.

"Good gods, what's going on here?" a female voice asked from the door. Cersei Lannister had entered the gym. She was followed by Myrcella, Tommen, and Sansa.

Sandor stared at Sansa for a brief second before he tried to focus again. Joffrey ignored his mother's question and was waiting for the opportunity of trying to hit Sandor.

"Joffrey," Cersei insisted.

"We are just training, Mother."

"Joffrey, Sansa needs to leave now, and there had been a problem..."

"It can wait."

"It can't," Sansa muttered then, talking before Cersei did. "i have to leave now to catch my flight in time, but-"

When he heard her talk, Joffrey looked away from Sandor and turned around to stare at Sansa. He raised one eyebrow and looked at her with an annoyed expression.

"It can wait if I say it can wait," he hissed, grimacing in an unpleasant way. "You don't leave this place until I say so, understand?"

The tone of voice in which he spoke to her was more bitter than usual. Normally at least Joffrey pretended to put up the show of the loving couple, he pretended to be a good and caring boyfriend and spoke sweetly to her whenever there were more people present. Now, however, he talked to her like he was spitting poison out of his mouth, and the coldness in his voice made Sansa take a step back and cringe.

 _Little shit..._ Sandor thought while looking at Joffrey at that moment.

His boss smirked while he stared at his fiancé, and after he satisfied himself with the view of her cringing in front of him he returned his attention back to boxing. His smug smirk was back on his face, but it was even worse now than before.

"C'mon, Sandor!" he exclaimed. "You can do better than that! Hit me!"

Indeed he could. In a second Sandor's fist was flying towards Joffrey's face. Joffrey was too slow to stop it, but before he could even trying to dodge it Sandor's powerful fist collided with his face with all his strength.

There was an awful cracking noise, and Joffrey yelled in pain. He took several steps away from Sandor and turned around away from him, and then he covered his face with his hands still with the gloves on. Everyone in the gym gasped, Cersei and Sansa the loudest.

" ** _Joffrey!_** " Cersei shouted, panicked, and ran to the ring to aid her son. Some drops of blood were falling to the floor from Joffrey's nose.

 _Did I break it? Good,_ Sandor thought to himself.

Two of the bodyguards and the trainer and Cersei were in the ring surrounding Joffrey, trying to see how bad was the damage. More drops of blood fell to the floor, and when they took Joffrey's hands away from his face Sandor saw that blood was pouring out of his nose. He had never felt as much satisfaction after hitting someone as be was feeling in that moment.

They tried to touch Joffrey's face but he screamed whenever any fingers touched his nose of the bloodied skin near it. He slapped and punched their hands away from him and covered his face again with his own hands.

Sandor enjoyed the spectacle for a few more seconds before turning his eyes away from that scene and focusing them on Sansa. She was still were she was standing before Sandor hit Joffrey, with Tommen and Myrcella by her side. Her eyes were round as plates and her mouth was wide open in aye. She slowly turned her eyes to return Sandor's stare and she raised her eyebrows in what he interpreted as surprise and approval. He fought back the urge to smirk. He knew that the little bird wasn't a cruel person, but even she couldn't deny herself feeling pleasure over what she had just witnessed.

Sandor stopped staring at her before someone could catch them and raise suspicion, and he looked at Joffrey again. He was groaning in pain, bt he wasn't telling anymore. Cersei then looked at Sandor and hissed infuriated.

" _You!_ " she shrieked. " _We should fire you right this instant! Get your things and-!_ "

"No," Joffrey groaned. He had his eyes closed in pain and he had taken off his gloves, so now he was covering his nose with his bare hands. His voice sounded off and funny. "No... We were... boxing."

" _Joffrey!_ " Cersei protested.

"I told him to fight!" Joffrey insisted, hissing instead of talking. Then he groaned. "But... Clegane..."

"Aye?" Sandor asked.

" _Get... the fuck... out... of my sight,_ " Joffrey hissed in pain and not bothering to hide the anger in his voice at that moment. He didn't want to fire Sandor, but that didn't mean he wasn't angry.

Not wanting to push his luck on that matter, Sandor only nodded and obeyed. He took off his gloves and left the ring without saying so much as goodbye or sorry, he never said those things no matter what he did. As he made his way his way towards the exit of the gym he walked past Sansa. Their eyes met again, and he was able to see the shadow of internal laughter in her blue eyes. Now that he had his back turned against everyone and they couldn't see his face, he finally smirked. Sansa covered her mouth, feigning horror for what had happened, but she was really biting on her hand to stop herself from laughing loud and merrily.

Sandor's arm brushed softly when he walked by her side, and then he left the gym. He could still hear Joffrey's groans of pain from there, but he stopped hearing her as he walked down the hallway.

 _You deserve a lot more,_ Sandor muttered in his mind, but he was content with having ruined a little bit the prick's face. He wouldn't be so pretty now, and hopefully not so fucking cocky either.

He arrived at the main entrance of the Red Keep, where he found on the floor next to the door some suitcases that he recognized as Sansa's. He wasn't surprised to see them there, he knew that the girl was leaving that morning to go to Highgarden for one of her two last concerts that year. The butler was also standing there next to the door, probably waiting for Sansa to get there so that they could leave. Sandor wondered when that would happen and suddenly he heard footsteps approaching behind him and he turned around to find Sansa walking towards him alone.

"Miss Stark," he said politely, just like every time that they were being watched. "I thought you were with Joffrey..."

"Joffrey is fine," Sansa said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand as to take importance off the matter. She tried to hide the joy in her voice, and coughed softly before speaking again. "It was an accident..."

"Of course," Sandor nodded. He was thankful that he had his back turned to the butler, otherwise the man would be able to see the huge smirk in his face. Sansa almost smiled the same way, but she managed to keep her face straight.

"I'm surprised Joffrey is taking it so well, to be honest," Sansa continued saying. "He always complains more, but maybe he's just not surprised that this happened. I mean, he did tell you to hit him."

"He did," Sandor nodded. It hadn't been the first time that he had hit Joffrey, it always ended happening whenever the prick asked him to train in the ring with him. This time had been the first time he had seriously hit him seriously, though. Sandor guessed that Joffrey was taking better than expected because it wasn't the first time that he had been bested in the ring by his personal bodyguard, and if so, he was lucky. As much as he was hating his job lately, he Sandor did not wish to be fired.

"They are going to the hospital to see if his nose is broken, but I am not going with them, I have to go to the airport," Sansa told him then, pointing to her suitcases in the floor next to the door. "I, umm... My bodyguards got sick. All of them. The breakfast must have had something bad in it, it's like some kind of stomach flu."

"Really?" Sandor inquired, raising his eyebrow. His expression gave him away again immediately.

Sansa looked at him puzzled, and then there was realization in her expression. For one second she stared at him with her mouth wide open until she remembered that there was someone else there watching both her and Sandor, and she returned the serious expression to her face. She coughed softly again.

"Yes. So you see, I need a new bodyguard, and Joffrey does not want to see you in a few days, so..."

"So I will be your bodyguard again," Sandor finished the sentence for her, and Sansa smiled and nodded.

"Yes."

"Alright then," he turned around and faced the butler, who was still standing next to the door like a statue. Sandor grunted. "What the fuck are you doing? Get the suitcases and move!" he barked, rude as ever. 

* * *

 

Sandor went back to his room to pack a single suitcase with clothes for him, he couldn't stay in the same black suit forever. He packed enough extra white shirts, an extra suit, and everything else that he needed. He also packed pajamas, of course. After closing his suitcase he went back downstairs and joined Sansa in the limo, where she was already waiting for him. He noticed that one of Joffrey's cars was gone; he must have been already on his way to the hospital to have his nose checked out by a doctor.

An hour later they were in the airport, ready to fly away from King's Landing. Sandor noticed the whole time the little bird' excitement at the hour of leaving that damn city behind and staying away from it for at least some days. She was once again the completely different person that she was whenever she was away from her fiancé, happy and smily and joyful; the contrast with the sad, worried and miserable girl that she was in the Red Keep was outstanding. Sandor liked to see her in a good mood, she seemed to glow with her own inner personal light, and it somehow made him feel in a better mood as well. Sandor wanted to speak with Sansa while on the flight, but he couldn't because there were other people around them and he did not want to risk eavesdropping ears. Instead he read the newspaper, pretending to be interested in what it had to say, and from time to time he checked on Sansa. She had fallen asleep with her headphones on and her head was resting on the window. Her hair looked like fire again because the sunlight came through the window and illuminated her in a breathtaking way. It was cold in the plane, so Sandor grabbed a blanket and put it over her, being careful so that he wouldn't wake her up. Sansa continued sleeping, but a small smile appeared in the corner of her lips and she sighed softly. Perhaps she was dreaming of something nice, and Sandor wondered what it could be.

 _Her home in Winterfell, most likely_ , he guessed. He had come to know her well enough to know that was all she wished; to return back to the North.

He confirmed that guess when, almost three hours later, they were about to land in Highgarden's airport. Sansa was still asleep, so Sandor woke her up by putting his hand in her leg and shaking her a bit. Sansa woke up because of it and blinked a few times before looking at Sandor and taking off her headphones. She smiled in a nostalgic way.

"Hey..." she said, changing her position in her seat to be more comfortable.

"Where you dreaming?" Sandor asked then, thinking it was funny how sleepy she looked still. Sansa sighed an nodded. "Of what?"

"Snow," she whispered, and that was all that Sandor needed to know that she really meant Winterfell indeed.

A black Mercedes was waiting for them in the airport, and they were taken to the five star hotel where they were going to stay during the time Sansa spent in the city while she wasn't doing any concerts. A man carried their luggage for them and and showed them the way to Sansa's suite. She had reservations for the presidential suite, of course, given who she was. Sandor had seen more presidential suits in his life than he could count, and he had always considered them to be extremely over the top for a place in which you were only going to sleep for a couple of days and that was it. However, he guessed that it was better that Sansa stayed in a nice place instead of in a sad, simple tiny bedroom.

Sandor had a much smaller room, right next to Sansa's suite. He wasn't going to exactly use it a lot, because he was her bodyguard and what he had to do was guard her and make sure that no one tried to harm her during her stay there. He would sleep perhaps a couple of hours so that he wouldn't be exhausted, but that would be it.

He went inside Sansa's suite to make sure everything was in order, and he watched her as she unpacked after their were left alone in the suite. The place was enormous, with a big living room with views to the city, and extremely luxurious. It had a balcony that had views to the most beautiful part of the city. Sandor had been in Highgarden many times; he didn't particularly enjoy the city. It had too many colors, too many scents, and too many damn flowers everywhere. He supposed that Sansa would enjoy that, though. It was a much nicer city than King's Landing.

"If you want, I'll take you to a place where they serve good from all around the world," he told Sansa then. "You don't have a concert until tomorrow, and I bet you don't want to stay all the fucking day locked up here."

"Oh, that would be great!" Sansa exclaimed, delighted. Sandor was still looking outside the glass door of the balcony, staring into the city, but he could sense and hear her walking around the suite putting her stuff in different places. "I've been in Highgarden a few times before, but I never had a chance to see the city."

"Fucking flowers as gardens everywhere," Sandor rasped. "You will like it. The food is good though. You can try everything you want."

"Let's go then!" Sansa exclaimed and she giggled. Sandor turned around just in time to see her disappear into the bedroom. "What's your favorite food there?"

"Spanish," he answered without hesitation.

"Really? Why?"

"Have you ever been in Spain, little bird?"

"Once or twice when I was on tour, but I had to leave immediately after the concerts," she said, disappointed. "I had a very tight schedule. What did I miss?"

"The best fucking food in the world," Sandor said with complete honesty. "Spaniards have great parties, great good, and my favorite wine. Much better than Arbor Gold or Dornish Red."

"I suppose I'll have to try a little," Sansa said enthusiastically, and then she walked out of the bedroom. She had changed from her traveling clothes to a simple pair of blue skin-tight jeans, a black top, and sandals. She was wearing only a small pendant and her engagement ring instead of the more sophisticated jewelry that she liked, and she had put her hair up in a bun which she later covered with a hat. She was holding her sunglasses in her hands and she put them on.

Sandor raised an eyebrow and looked at her with interest. Sansa looked completely different from how she always did, but even in that casual clothing she looked beautiful.

Sansa noticed Sandor staring at her and shrugged.

"There's paparazzi everywhere, hopefully they won't spot me if I look like this," she explained. "Maybe you should change too, you look... too much like a bodyguard. They will definitely recognize me if they see you like that."

Sandor agreed with her, so he went to his room to change quickly. Luckily for him, he had also packed a pair of dark jeans and a white T-shirt and sneakers; he usually packed those in case he ever needed them. He changed out of his black bodyguard suit and into those casual clothes, and then he out in sunglasses on. He wished he had a hat that could perhaps help him find a little bit his scars, but he hadn't packed that.

They left the hotel and ventured into the streets of Highgarden so that Sansa could her only free day before she had the first concert the following day. As they walked down the streets Sandor constantly checked that everything was safe and that there weren't any paparazzi stalking Sansa, but thankfully he didn't see anything out of order.

Just as he had guessed, Sansa was amazed with the city. She hadn't had any chances to properly do some tourism around the capital of the Reach before, and she was enjoying the colorful buildings, the wide streets, and everything else. Highgarden was a mix of city and nature; every street had a different type of tree played along the sidewalks, and there were squares all around the city that were surrounded by gardens of the most colorful flowers both common and exotic. Sansa stopped every single time that they walked near the gardens to smell the flowers, and she was delighted.

When Sansa took out her iPhone and started taking pictures of every single corner of the city, Sandor groaned exasperated.

"You can google pictures if you want them!" he rasped. He was hungry, and he wanted to get to that restaurant place that he had told her about as soon as possible.

"Sshh! It's not the same!" Sansa said, and then she took a couple of selfies in front of the gardens. She ignored the way in which Sandor looked at her while she did that, and when she was done she continued walking by his side down the colorful and illuminated and lively streets, following him.

It took them twenty more minutes to get to that place. It was a small street in which all the establishments were restaurants. Every restaurant served food from different countries of all around the world. There was a Chinese restaurant, a Japanese restaurant, Indian, Russian, Italian, French, Mexican... They had decided earlier that they were going to the Spanish one, and so Sandor took Sansa inside that one. It would be a son to allow her to walk away from there without trying that food.

The cooks were native from Spain, so they weren't some buggering fools trying to copy good food and ruining it. Sandor ordered told Sansa to try some tapas: Spanish potato omelet, Serrano ham, tumaca bread, fried squid, shrimp with garlic, olives, cheese, and a sandwich called Montaíto. There were so many more things that were delicious, but Sansa couldn't eat anything else. She asked for a clarita to drink (beer mixed with tonic,) and she was delighted when the food was served to her.

Sandor asked for boquerones en vinagre (anchovies,) and a glass of red wine from La Rioja.

They are in the most hidden table in a corner of the restaurant, away from curious eyes, and enjoyed their good. Sansa was either very hungry, or she was really liking her food, because she was devouring everything.

"This is amazing!" she exclaimed after finishing the potato omelet.

"I told you," he said, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"Why isn't there one of these in King's Landing? There _must_ be one of this!"

"There isn't."

" _That is absurd!_ "

Sandor laughed under his breath because of Sansa's indignation. She looked adorable, eating her food so happily and frowning like she was concentrating in memorizing every single little detail about all the flavors. Sitting there, in that table in the corner of the restaurant, created the feeling that they were a real, normal couple, enjoying a meal together. But was a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. And fantasies were for fools that sooner or later would get hurt. After that thought creeped into Sandor's mind, the wine tasted bitter in his mouth when he drank it. He felt miserable for a moment, and it must have been showing in his face because Sansa noticed it.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little bit concerned because of how quickly his expression had changed.

He nodded, but he didn't say anything. He continued eating his food, and Sansa did the same.

"Thank you," she whispered then." "You have done it again."

Sandor lifted his gaze from his plate of anchovies and frowned, confused by her words. Why was she thanking him? He hadn't done anything. Or maybe he had done something bad, and she was being sarcastic...

"You always manage to make me feel like I'm living a normal life," Sansa explained, playing with her olives with a toothpick, and she sighed. "You take me away, and suddenly I'm happy again."

She locked eyes with him, and he saw sincerity in her amazing blue eyes. She was genuinely thanking him, and she was really feeling happy. That knowledge made him feel hot inside, because for once he was doing something good and he was doing it for her. However. It also made him feel like he was chocking, and that was a miserable feeling.

"This will be just like the last time," he said, referring to the days when he had taken her to Tarth. Only the gods knew how many fucking times he had dreamed about that island and what happened then, how many times he revived those nights in his mind and wished that he could go back and relive them again. "I will have to take you back to your golden cage."

"It begins to feel like it is worth it," she murmured, leaving him unable to come up with any sensible thoughts.

They are the rest of their food in silence. Sandor didn't want to, but Sansa was the one that ended up having to pay the check so that it wouldn't be suspicious. Joffrey administered Sansa's money, and he would find it suspicious if Sandor was suddenly paying her checks.

They went back into the street again, and walked through the streets to see a little more of the city. Their steps eventually room them to the street market, where they sold all kinds of merchandise. Sansa looked at all the pretty dresses made of smooth, beautiful fabrics, and she also took a look at some jewelry. There was a necklace made with black amethysts that she took in her hands and observed for quite some time.

"Black amethysts from Asshai," the old woman that was the owner of the place told her. "They have magic! Powerful magic!"

Sansa smiled at the woman and excused herself before putting the necklace back in it's place. Then she continued looking around, and after they left the market, Sandor and Sansa went to see some famous and ancient buildings around the city. When it was already time to go back to the hotel so that Sansa could rest before the big and busy day that followed, they took a way that led to a bridge that crossed over the Mander river.

They had been out all day, so the scenery was beautiful. From the bridge they could see the sun setting in the horizon, far away from the city. The strong light bathed the fields of golden roses that surrounded the city, making it feel as if they were surrounded by pure gold everywhere, and the waters of the river below them were also golden, reflecting the light. They stopped in the middle of the bridge to observe the sunset for a little bit, and while Sandor was distracted staring I to the horizon, Sansa shilly looked at him.

She hadn't been this near since even before the Oscars, since they left Tarth. She had missed that closeness, that familiarly, that... intimacy. She missed the sense of safety that being close to Sandor gave her.

She shivered when she looked at him, feeling a chill run down her spine. She wanted to hold him there, despite all the people that could see them. Oh, how she wanted to hold his hand and entwine her finger with his... But she couldn't.

She missed him. All of him. Hi touch, his warmth, his kisses... She hated that all that had been taken away from her.

She looked away from him just seconds before he looked at her and the same thought formed in his mind. Sandor had to hold himself back from lifting his hand and caressing Sansa's soft cheek right then and there. He knew how dangerous that would be, and he knew that Sansa's safety was more important than his own selfish desire.

Lost in their thoughts, they didn't notice the dark cloud coming at them from the East. The storm caught up with them, and all of a sudden it started pouring. They were soaked wet in a matter of seconds, and Sandor grunted annoyed. Sansa, on the other hand, squealed and ran off, trying to get away from the rain as fast as she could. Sandor didn't hesitate and he ran after the little bird, following her to the hotel.

* * *

 

When they arrived in the hotel, they were soaked to their bones. They ran through the lobby and into the elevator, and for some reason Sansa spent the entire way to her suite giggling. Sandor followed her without thinking, even though he should probably have gone to his own room to change into his dry bodyguard uniform.

Sansa continued giggling for a little bit after Sandor closed the door of the suite. She was as much happy as she was soaked.

"I had so much fun today!" she exclaimed sincerely.

She lost her footing then and tripped. She almost fell to the floor, but Sandor quickly caught her in his arms. Sansa stepped on her feet again, and she looked up at Sandor. Her blue eyes were staring at him with such intensity that it was breathtaking. A heavy silence fell on them, and all they could hear was the sound of the falling rain and thunder outside. Sandor's hands still held Sansa's waist, and her hands held on to his muscular arms. Slowly, she moved her hands away from his arms and rested them on his chest. Sandor's breathing beams more heavy. He looked at Sansa's eyes, her full and slightly parted lips... Desire filled very inch of him.

He wasn't alone in that aspect. Sansa looked at Sandor, and soon her eyes fell to his lips. She felt his rapidly beating heart underneath her palms; his skin was burning hot, even underneath the cold and soaked T-shirt. Because it was white, the eater made it transparent, and she could see his body. She wanted to take the T-shirt off him and wrap her arms around his strong and powerful torso, feel his warmth against her skin. She wanted her hands on his body, and his hands on her body, and their lips on each other.

But even that wouldn't be enough. Sansa wanted more, just as Sandor wanted more. Their desire had long ago stopped being carnal (if it had even ever been just carnal.) they needed more than just that. They needed all of each other, body and soul.

Given the circumstances in which they both lived, that was impossible. However, satisfying just one part of their need was good enough for the moment.

Sansa parted her lips a little bit more in an inviting way, and Sandor took the chance immediately. With one hand he moved Sansa's auburn and soaked hair away from her face, and withheld placed the other hand on her back, and then he leaned in and kissed her mouth.

Something inside of Sansa exploded, and she moaned against his mouth. It had been long, so long since Sandor had kissed her. It had been only a month, but for her it had been an eternity. Who would have ever told her that her need for that man kissing her in that moment would be so immense?

Sansa kissed Sandor back and she lifted her hand to cup his face gently...

...And then, all of a sudden, she stopped the kiss and pulled away from Sandor. He opened his eyes and frowned, confused and stunned by that. Sansa avoided looking him in the eyes.

She felt guilty. She couldn't do that to him. She wasn't stupid, she knew that Sandor had very string feelings for her even though he never actually said it out loud. It wasn't exactly like he was free to say them out loud even if he wanted to, and neither was she free to tell him who she truly felt deep in her heart. That was precisely the reason why she couldn't do that to him. It would be cruel to continue with that situation, when they could never be together. She would only end up hurt even more, and was was worse, she would hurt Sandor as well. He didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve that. That was why she had to stop the kiss, even if it felt like a cold dark hand was ripping her heart out of her chest.

"I... I'm going to go... take a shower," she mumbled numbly, all the time avoiding his eyes. She turned around and walked away from him, leaving him standing there petrified.

She went inside the huge bathroom, but she didn't lock the door, she just closed it. Without even taking a second to look around her, she took all of her clothes off and threw them to the floor. She felt a little better after she went inside the shower and the warm water fell on her. The shower of that hotel wasn't like any other normal shower: the water came through holes in the ceiling, falling down on the entire length of the shower like warm rain. Sansa closed her eyes and lifted her face so that the water hit her face. She felt good then,Nike the water was cleansing her inside, taking out away part of the pain and leaving a numb feeling inside of her instead. She tried not to think about Sandor after having left him standing there alone and confused in the living room of the suite. What would he be thinking, how would he be feeling? Was he hurt too? Did he know why she had done it, did he understand her? Or did he think that she had run away cause she didn't desire him anymore? Was he gone? She felt a pang in her chest provoked by that thought, and she almost cried out loud.

Big and strong hands appeared from behind her all of a sudden and held her hips, and Sansa gasped. She didn't scream, though. She didn't need to open her eyes and look to know it was him behind of her.

She melted with his touch, and gave up in her pathetic attempt to distance herself from him. She was strong enough to try and walk away from him, but she wasn't strong enough to push him away from her when he came to her. Deep inside Sansa wondered if she had even tried at all to walk away.

She threw he head back a little more, exposing her neck, and Sandor pulled her towards him. She gasped again when she felt his strong and naked body against her, and she shivered. Sandor put one of his arms around her and with his other hand he caressed her neck with desire, sending bolts of pleasure all over Sansa's body. It was amazing what Sandor's touch, so rough and so gentle at the same time, could do to her.

"Sandor..." she whispered.

"Don't, little bird," Sandor cut her off with a rough rasp. "I know what you were thinking. Don't even ask me to try."

Sansa gave up then, and she let her head rest against Sandor's chest. She threw her arms back to touch his face, and she shivered once again when Sandor's hands started roaming her body. The hand that had previously been around her moved down her thigh, and his other hand caressed her left side. Sansa panted, feeling bewitched by his touch, and when both of Sandor's hands moved to her torso and cupped her breasts she started panting. He squeezed, and she moaned.

"Sandor, please..." she begged, but she was useless. She couldn't send him away, and she didn't want him to go. She became lost in her senses and in the burning sensation of her skin as Sandor touched her and caressed her everywhere he could reach. He leaned in towards her and kissed her neck, making her moan again softly. Then he bit her carefully, trying not leave a mark, and then he also bit her ear in a teasing way.

"Do you want me to go, Sansa?" he asked in her ear. "Truly?"

_How can he even ask that? He already knows the answer._

"No," she gasped.

She turned around then, facing him, and she opened her eyes. There he was, inside her shower, standing before her completely naked. He towered over her, and the water shocked him and ran down his body in the most exquisite way. Sansa wanted to touch him and kiss him and caress him and try an see if she remembered every inch of his body as well as she thought she did. She put her arms on his chest; as soon as she locked eyes with him, they kissed.

It was a soft kiss at first. It wasn't chaste, but it was delicate. Sandor's lips caressed and massaged Sansa's lips in a caring and loving way. Once again he was holding her hips, and she was cupping his face. But then she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her entire naked body against him, and passion erupted. Sandor groaned deep in the back of his throat, shivering just as hard as Sansa was, victims of the deep desire and insatiable hunger that he felt for her. He pulled her closer to him, and Sansa felt his hardness pressing against her belly. She felt butterflies in her stomach. She felt a tickling sensation all over her skin, but she didn't know if it was due to the water that fell hard in both of them from the shower or due to her craving for Sandor's touches and kisses. Probably the latter.

"Sandor, please..." she begged. She had begged that before too, but now it had a completely different meaning; the compete opposite, actually. Before she wanted him away, now she wanted him closer.

Sandor understood, and he complied. He held Sansa up in his arms, lifting her from the shower floor. As carefully as he could nagas to be at that moment, he pressed her back against the cold tiled wall of the shower, making her hiss, but he immediately pressed his own body against her, giving her his warmth. He put her legs around him while still holding them with his hands; the position in which they were in made his hard manhood graze her entrance, making her moan and cry out loud.

"Sandor..." she half whispered and half moaned. She opened her eyes once again, and saw Sandor looking like he was in some kind of trance. It was a good trance, though.

Sansa ran her hands through his black and wet hair, and she then cupped his face again and pulled him closer to her so that she could kiss him. Their tongues met inside their mouths, starting a both dangerous and sensual erotic dance inside their mouths. At one point, Sansa playfully bit Sandor's lower lip, making him groan.

"Sansa..." he sighed.

He buried his face in her neck, and then he pushed himself inside her. Sansa cried out loud in pleasure. She held on to Sandor, trying to control the blissful waves of pleasure that invaded her. Sandor pulled out and again entered her, at first slowly and then gradually going faster, until their moans and groans of pleasure became cries. In fear that Sansa might become too loud, Sandor covered her mouth with his hand. Sansa want able to resist it and bit down on it every time that Sandor thrust into her. She didn't stand that for long though, and she moved away from his hand and instead kissed his mouth, wanting to silence her cries of pleasure with a passionate kiss. Sandor returned the kiss; he kissed her as if his life depended on it.

They both cried in unison when their pleasure reached their peak, but they muffled each other's cries with their mouths and lips. Sansa buried her nails in Sandor's back, making him hiss, and his grip on her became so right that she was sure that she would have a few marks on her body the next day on her waist and legs.

Sandor pulled out of her, and she felt his warm seed running down the inside of her thighs alongside the water of the shower. Their passion didn't die then, however.

Still holding Sansa in his arms and still kissing her, Sandor turned off the shower and stepped out of it, carrying Sansa with him. They were both soaked and they were both cold, but that didn't matter one bit. Sandor took Sansa to the suite's bedroom and threw her on her back in the enormous bed. Sansa laughed merrily, and Sandor grinned mischievously. Now that his desire and hunger (and hers also,) was more satisfied than before, he could take more time to pay attention to her.

Sansa was still lying in her back in the bed, and when Sandor climbed in too of her she parted her legs for him. He leaned in to kiss her and she surrounded him with her arms, holding him as close as he could. When their lips parted, Sandor went back to kissing her neck. Then his mouth travelled down to her collarbone, and then to her breasts. Sansa writhed underneath him when he took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked on it hard, making her moan again. While he did that he squeezed and caressed the other breast with his hand, paying equal attention to both. Then he took her other nipple in his mouth, and caressed the other breast.

She was delicious, and he wished that he was free to do that to her every single night of their lives. He wanted to make her his and make her scream his name. He wanted to always be hers, and stay by her side in bed at night.

She wanted the same. Was it too much to ask? Apparently yes.

Sandor then kissed his way down Sansa's torso, down her stomach and belly, until he found her sweet, sweet, sweet woman's place.

In the dark and solitude of that hotel suite miles away from all their enemies, Sandor made Sansa scream his name.

* * *

 

They were lying together on the bed afterwards, with their arms around each other. Sansa's head rested on Sandor's chest, and she surrounded his waist with her arm. They were both still naked, and Sandor gently caressed Sansa's back. They were both in silence, maybe believing that the other one was asleep when in reality they were both with their eyes open in the dark, thinking about what had just happened. Finally Sandor figured out that Sansa was just as awake as he was, and he decided to break the silence.

"Don't marry him."

Sansa froze. It wasn't exactly what she was expecting to hear at that moment, but she understood Sandor's sudden urge to beg her that. If only if were that easy..

She placed a loving and tender kiss on his chest.

"You know I can't..." she whispered. Her eyes were lost in the darkness. "I wish I could. I want to be like this forever."

"Then run away with me."

He didn't even know where those words had come from, he just blurted them out. He didn't regret saying them, however.

Sansa smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"And go where?"

"Anywhere. Wherever you want, I will take you. Anywhere in Essos, or America... Hell, I'll take you to fucking Europe! Spain, France, England, Russia, Italy, Greece... You name it, Sansa, and I'll take you there. I'll keep you safe, I swear it."

She knew he meant it. She knew that she just had to say the words right then and there, and Sandor would leave everything behind, his whole life, and he would take her as far away as he could. And she also knew that if someone attempted to hurt her then, that someone would be a dead man.

She wanted to run away with him, she desired more than anything... Go to some little cute city or town in Europe and get lost there forever and be happy... It was too dangerous, though. She wasn't willing to risk his life for any reason, and neither was she willing to risk the lives of those she loved.

"He would kill my family. You know he would."

"I'll call that crazy sister of yours. I'll look the other way while she puts a bullet in his brain."

"Is it that easy?"

She was right, it wasn't. But the alternative was just too painful to withstand.

"I can't stand there in the church and watch you marry him," he rasped, shaking his head. "I can't."

 _But I will,_ he thought then, much to his sorrow. _If that's the only way in which I can help her that day, then I will be there..._

The moment of separation came soon after. Sandor had already spent too much time inside the suite, and he needed to leave before anyone would notice. He got out of the bed and put on his clothes, now dry, quickly. He walked towards the door of the bedroom and was about to leave when Sansa's voice stopped him.

"Sandor?"

"Yes?" he asked. He could see her in the dark now. She was sitting on the bed with the bedsheets wrapped around her naked body. Sansa stared at him for a couple of seconds before saying:

"I love you."

Sandor's breath caught in his chest. No one had ever said that to him in his life. And now those words were coming out of Sansa's mouth, and he knew that it was the biggest truth that she had ever spoken.

He wasn't good with words, he had never been. He didn't know how to correctly express himself with them, so he replied in the way in which he did know how to: with actions. He walked back to the bed and took Sansa in his arms, and he kissed her for the thousandth time that night. The kiss was simple, lips to lips only, but was so much more than that. He was spilling his very soul into that kiss, and Sansa took it gladly. Sandor wanted her to know that he wouldn't abandon her. It was his own wordless way of saying " _I love you._ " Sansa already knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Arya in the next chapter... ^.^


	22. Valar Morghulis.

Arya rubbed her hands together, feeling extremely bored while she sat on the ground of that place in the middle of nowhere. She had been sitting there for the past hour and she was starting to feel impatient and annoyed. Besides, she still had jet lag, and that wasn't improving her mood in the slightest way. The fact that there were mosquitoes everywhere and the place was super humid didn't help at all. She kept slapping herself whenever a new bug decided to land on her face of neck or hands.

Jaqen, on the other hand, sat beside her keeping quiet and still. That annoyed Arya as well.

"We shouldn't be here," Arya scoffed. "We should be in Westeros killing Joffrey. My sister is getting married to that monster in less than two weeks!"

"Patience, sweet girl," the bravos I said with his typical smirk in his face. "The time of death comes for everybody, but death must come at it's due time."

"Yeah, so?"

"Now it's not the time. You failed when the time first came, and now you must wait for the second chance," Jaqen explained to him. His voice was calm as always; Arya usually wondered how he managed to keep his voice so calm in every single situation. Sometimes that calmness gave her the impression that Jaqen was mocking everything and everyone, and sometimes it made her think that Jaqen just didn't care about anything. He was so uninterested in most things that he never got upset about anything.

"Death will come for Joffrey Baratheon, girl, don't worry. You have his name, and the god of Death will take his life. Valar Morghulis.

Arya knew that Jaqen was being sincere. The Faceless Men always ended the lives that they promised to take, and her boss had promised her that she would take away Joffrey's life. Arya was a Faceless Woman now; she would not fail the next time that she attempted to get her revenge.

She couldn't wait, though. Sansa would be getting married in a matter of days, and the thought of her sister having to spend one single minute as that man's wife made Arya feel sick. She couldn't let Sansa down, not now. Arya had promised her that she would avenge their father, and she would. She needed to save her sister.

She had wanted to try to kill Joffrey again before the wedding, but until two days ago she hadn't known that she had a new mission for the Faceless Men. She had wanted to travel to King's Landing and study Joffrey's movements for a few days until she had the perfect plan to kill him. However, before she left Braavos her boss had informed her and her partner, Jaqen, that they had a person to kill. Arya couldn't refuse: when the boss gave an order he did not wait for approval. You either accepted the assignment or you were out, and Arya needed to stay with the Faceless Men. It was the only way in which she could succeed to kill Joffrey, otherwise she would be on her own.

The person that she and Jaqen had been sent to kill was named Dakshesh Khedekar. He was in his early fifties and he was one of the richest men in the city of Mumbai. He came from poor origins, so where had all his money come from? Filthy business. Arya wasn't sure what it was exactly that the man did, but she knew it wasn't something good. The first time that she saw a picture of him that had been provided by another one of the Faceless men she had thought that Khedekar looked like a human hamburger. She just didn't like his aspect, she didn't like his expression. The person that had hired them and that wanted Kedekhar dead didn't provide much information about the future victim, just the name and the city. It didn;t matter, the Faceless Men only needed a name. _"Give a name, and a Faceless Man will do the rest"_ was the saying that everyone knew about them. A name... and money, of course. No death is for free.

Arya had been impressed by the amount of money paid for that life. The price for hiring a Faceless Man was always high, yes, but one million Westerosi dragons... That was even more millions of dollars. Of course that the House of Black and White couldn't turn down an offer like that! The Faceless Men didn't kill for money. Their goals were others, but the money was needed. Being a Faceless Man was very risky, and very expensive, so of course that the prices were high. The Faceless Men were the best at what they did, after all.

Arya hadn't travelled to India only with Jaqen. They had brought other Faceless Men as part of their team. each one had a different part in the plan: some of them used their abilities in disguise and identity thievery and their talent for obtaining information to find Dakshesh Khedekar and find out where he would be going to every hour of every day and with whom he would be and what would he do and why. Another part of the team formed part of the escape plan in case things were wrong, or if they needed to run anyway after Khedekar was dead. Arya and Jaqen were the ones actually doing the killing.

They had tracked down Dakshesh Khedekar and they had discovered that he would be meeting someone far away from civilization, in an area that was just nature everywhere: jungle, mountains, hills, and animals. Not a single village or city anywhere in miles around. That was where Jaqen and Arya were waiting, hiding among the vegetation. It was plain daylight, so instead of wearing all-black suits they wore camouflage clothes that helped them become part of the endless green vegetation around them. They had dirtied their faces with a bit of mud, and Jaqen had had to temporarily dye his hair to brown because his half white and half red hair was too flamboyant and could give them away at any moment.

"If anyone say your hair from afar, they might think it was a tiger!" Arya joked, grinning.

Jaqen rolled his eyes.

"Sure they would..."

Arya wondered if there would be any tigers around there. She hoped not. Tigers were too damn similar to lions, and she hated lions. She didn't the jungle either. She was a wolf of Winterfell, she belonged to the Northern colder weather, to the forest and the snow and the ice. The jungle was too damn overwhelming, too bright, and too hot. It was Summer in there, and she was sweating non-stop. She hoped that the man would show up soon, before she completely lost her patience. She wanted to get out of there and catch a plain back to Westeros. She needed to be in King's Landing...

Jaqen gestured to her to lay low all of a sudden.

"There they are," the braavosi whispered, dropping flat on his stomach on the ground and looking at the place that he was pointing to Arya.

She dropped to the ground as well, hiding even further in the sickening green vegetation that was everywhere around them. They were on a hill that was completely covered with trees and huge rocks, so they had the best hiding place that they could find in the entire jungle. The vegetation and the distance didn't allow to see much, but they had brought binoculars with them so that wasn't a problem.

Two cars approached from opposite directions: a white land rover came from the North, and a black range river drove from the South. They parked in front of each other in the middle of the dirt road that crossed that part of the jungle, and armed men came out from both cars. They stood to the side, looking all tall and mean and menacing while they allowed two other people to come out from the cars. From the white car emerged a little skinny guy with a rat's face dressed in a dark suit, and Dakshesh Khedekar came out from the black car. Arya recognized him immediately from the picture that the other Faceless Man had given her earlier. Both men faced each other and started talking in Hindi, and soon after the conversation evolved into heavy arguing. Arya guessed that the little rat-faced man was one of Khedekar's associates.

"Do you want me to do it?" Jaqen asked, whispering so that no one could hear him.

Arya shook her head. She would do it. She had killed enough people in the last year and she knew what she was going. She was very good at it.

She handed the binoculars over to Jaqen, who took them while she grabbed her sniper rifle and placed it in the right position so that she could get ready to shoot. She lowered herself on the ground, careful not to make any noise or movements that would give her away. She could not mess this up. If she did she would not be able to go back, they would not allow her. Everything had to go according to plan. She looked through the telescopic sight of the sniper rifle, aiming right at Dakshesh Khedekar's head. She didn't know if he was wearing a bulletproof vest underneath his suit, so she didn't want to risk missing her shot.

She out her finger on the trigger and focused, but she didn't shoot yet. Jaqen looked at her and frowned.

"What are you doing? What are you waiting for?"

"What does he do?" Arya asked then.

"What?"

"What does he do? Khedekar, how does he get his money?"

Jaqen hissed impatiently. "A Faceless Man does not care about that. A Faceless Man just has to know a name, and take the life, no more. It doesn't matter if he deserves to die or not."

"Doesn't it?" Arya wondered. "But I never said that wanted to know if he deserves it. I just want to know."

"That is none of your concern, Arya!" Jaqen kept hissing. " _Shoot, the moment is now!_ "

It was indeed the perfect moment to shoot, but Arya didn't do it. Seconds later one of Khedekar's bodyguards took a step forward and stepped right in between his boss and Arya's rifle, making it impossible to carry on the mission for the time being. Jaqen cursed under his breath, but he gave up.

"He kidnaps girls," he told Arya then, giving her the information that she wanted. "Young, beautiful girls. He prostitutes them. Sometimes he sells them to brothels all over the world for a large sum of money."

That was all that Arya needed to know. The bodyguard took a step back then, and Arya pulled the trigger.

_Valar Morghulis._

The bullet flew silently without making any noise (thanks to the silencer on the sniper rifle,) downhill through the trees of the jungle, and struck Dakshesh Khedekar on his right temple. He collapsed to the ground dead before anyone could figure out what was happening, but when they saw the bloodied hole in his head they all started shouting. The little rat-faced man started screaming curses in Hindi and ran panicked towards his car; his bodyguards followed him and the car drove away. Khedekar's bodyguards, however, pulled out they guns and aimed them in every direction trying to find whoever had killed their boss. They started shooting at the vegetation of the jungle, and Jaqen and Arya fell flat on their bellies to avoid being hit by one of the stray bullets. One of them hit a bird that rested on a branch of a tree next to them, and fell to the ground dead right on top of Jaqen, hitting his head. He cursed under his breath for the second time that day, only that this time he did it in braavosi. He pushes the dead bird away from him and started crawling away quickly, always keeping himself lying low on the ground so that the bodyguards would not see him and shoot him. Arya did the same and followed him, only that she had more difficulty because she was carrying the sniper rifle.

They heard the bodyguards shouting something in Hindi, and they also heard them running. They were spreading in every direction, looking for them.

 _We should have brought someone that spoke Hindi,_ she thought while she quickly crawled away from there.

 _Silent as a cat, quick as a snake,_ she thought, remembering her lessons from her first master. That was what she did while she crawled through the jungle in India; being silent and quick as a cat and a snake.

The only reason why they were bothering with crawling away and trying not to get caught was because they didn't want to hurt the bodyguards. Both Jaqen and Arya could have easily stood up and killed all of them, but the Faceless Men only killed the people that they had been sent to kill, no more, no less. They had been sent there to take one life only, and only that life they would take. So patiently they made their way from the heavy vegetation of that place, hiding and moving as quickly as they could to get out of there unseen. Once they were far away enough and reached a place were the vegetation was even heavier than in the place they had been before, they got back up on their feet and started running. It took then almost no time to lose the bodyguards, who had been misled and went towards the opposite direction in search for them.

Jaqen looked at Arya with an approving half-smile, and Arya felt satisfied that she had managed to go through another mission successfully. It hadn't been easy at first, killing. She saw the faces of their whose eyes she shut forever in the dark, judging her, haunting her. But not anymore. It hadn't taken long to learn that effectively, all men must die, and all men had a reason to die. At least, the ones that she was sent to kill did. Knowing that she was freeing the world from another bad person made her conscience feel better.

"That was easy," Jaqen commented. It had been very easy, actually. "Now come, I want to get out of this jungle."

Arya wanted to get out of there too, she was really hating the heat. She had always thought that the weather of King's Landing was too hot and humid, but she was finding that place to be even worse. She didn't like the heat, she found comfort in the cold.

 _Someday, I'll return to the North,_ she vowed to herself.

The rest of their team was waiting for them a couple of miles away from there with a car so that they could return to Mumbai and catch a flight to the United States, and from there await for orders to return to Braavos or go to Westeros. Arya hoped that it would be the latter, but she would have to wait for the orders. She walked alongside Jaqen in silence until they arrived at the place where the others were waiting with the car.

"Guys?" Jaqen called them, but no one responded. The car was hidden right behind a big group of trees that were so close together that it was impossible to see what was at the other side. Jaqen got no reply from the men. "We are back. She did it."

Arya followed him a bit distracted, looking down at her feet while she walked, but she stopped and looked up when she heard his astonished voice:

"What in the name of God...?"

Arya took a peek around Jaqen to see what he was looking at, and she froze when she found the dead bodies of their three four companions lying on the floor around the car. The first thought that occurred to Arya was that they had been attacked by some wild animal. Then she saw that they had been shot.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed, not believing what she was seeing.

That couldn't have been the bodyguards that were trying to find them. It was impossible, they had gone in a completely different direction, and there was no way that they were able to surprise and kill for Faceless Men, the best assassins in the world. But then... who had done that? And why?

The car was still there. Arya walked towards it, and was about to open the door to take a look inside when suddenly Jaqen ran after her and grabbed her arm. He pulled her away from the car and threw her to the ground.

" _Watch out!_ " he shouted right before the car blew up in a violent explosions. A second later all that was left of the car was a shredded ruin engulfed in furious flames.

Arya was too stunned to get back up from her feet and react to what was happening. Besides, she was in pain. A flying piece of metal from the car had hit her, cutting a gash in her right thigh, and the flames had grazed her left hip and burned pieces of her clothes, but when she hit the ground the flames had been extinguished and she hadn't been burn, luckily for her.

Jaqen reacted more quickly. He got up immediately and pulled Arya to her feet, ignoring the girl's whimper when she put all of her weight on her injured leg. She saw that Jaqen had been hurt too, and that he had a long cut on his forehead. There was blood running down his face, but he didn't seem to mind.

" _Run, girl, run!"_ he urged her, pushing her away, and she did as she was told.

She didn't know where she was running to, she just went where her feet told her to go. Jaqen was right behind her, and he picked up from the ground the sniper rifle that she had dropped during the explosion. She heard other footsteps that weren't theirs then, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw men coming out behind the vegetation and jumping down from their hiding places up in the branches of the trees. They were all armed, and they were going after them. They were many, at least eight.

" _Jaqen!_ " Arya screamed to warm him.

Jaqen turned around then and aimed the rifle at the men that was closest to him. He shot and killed them man, and then he shot down a second man and a third. Jaqen was very, very quick. He was in the process of shooting a fourth man down but then one of them started shooting back, and Jaqen had to suck to dodge the bullets and he turned around again to continue running. Arya had kept running and was well ahead of him by then, but she slowed down when she turned her head around to look at Jaqen. He waved his arm making gestures for her to go on.

" _Run! Arya, **run!**_ " he shouted at her.

She did as he told her. She couldn't look back, or she would slow down and they would catch up with her and they would kill her. She kept hearing Jaqen shouting at her to go on for a little bit, until she couldn't hear him anymore. She didn't look back. Was he still behind her? Was he even alive?

 _Please, don't kill him,_ she begged in her mind while she ran. _He's my friend. You can't take my friend away too..._

She ran so much that her legs were killing her. The pain didn't come from the cut in her thigh anymore, but from her burning muscles. The men behind her were still shooting in her direction, trying to kill her. She miraculously managed to doge all the bullets, though some of them missed her by mere inches and grazed her as they flew by her side.

She tripped on the roots of a tree and fell flat on her face. She grunted as she hit the ground, and kicked the root to free her trapped foot. She turned around so that she was lying on her back, and that was when she saw that Jaqen wasn't there anymore, but a man was approaching her with a gun in hand. Arya quickly reached for her own gun, the one she had in her belt. She took it out and aimed it at the man, shooting him desperately in the chest. She succeeded in killing him and he dropped first on his knees and then on his face on the jungle ground.

Arya gasped and got up on her feet again. She stared at the dead man. There was no one else around her, so she guessed that they were all either dead or they had gone in a different direction. As she stared at the dead body, she realized that she was having trouble breathing. Her kings ached, her chest ached, and her legs were in agony. She couldn't stop there, though. She was in the middle of the jungle in India, and she didn't know if there were more men coming after her... She had to get out of there...

Just as she turned around to leave, two mean appeared out of nowhere. One of them hit her in the face, and the other one grabbed her hand and made her drop her gun. She was now disarmed, but luckily for her, they weren't carrying any guns, only knives. She had a knife too, hidden inside her boot, but she couldn't reach it with the man still holding her by the wrist. Furious, she slammed her knee between his legs and made him bend over and cry out in pain, releasing her. The man that had hit her in the face cursed and tried to stab her with his knife. She ducked and dodged him, but she stared at him wide eyed when she realized what she had heard.

The man had cursed in Valyrian. That was only spoken in Essos...

"Who are you?" she asked in Valyrian, feeling more confused by the second. She wished she could recognize the men by their uniform, but they were all wearing black clothes. "Who sent you?!"

"No one," the man said, looking at her with a serious face.

"Why are you trying to kill us?"

"You want to kill the Governor," the man said, grinning. "That interferes with our own plans..."

_What...? Did Joffrey send them?_

That didn't make any sense. Joffrey had no idea that she was the one that had attacked him in King's Landing, he couldn't know. And surely her sister and her bodyguard boyfriend wouldn't have said anything, it wouldn't make any sense either.

No, those men hadn't been sent by Joffrey. Then who the fuck were they?

There wasn't time to make those questions. The man attacked her with his knife, but again Arya was quickly dodging and she avoided the sharp blade. She pinched the man in the face with all the strength and then she grabbed his arm. Making use of his moment of weakness, she twisted his arm and buried the man's own knife into his chest. He screamed, and then she reached down to her boot with her free hand and took out her own knife.

"Valar Morghulis," she hissed as she slit his throat. Then she turned around and threw the knife and the other man, burying it in his forehead.

There was a loud bang! all of a sudden, and a sharp and agonizing pain hit her shoulder. She screamed and fell to the floor next to the man she had just killed, but she managed to support herself on her hands and knees. Almost biting her tongue off because of the pain, she made a great effort to raise her head. There were more men coming that way. One of them had shot her.

If she stayed there, they were going to kill her as soon as they got there without giving her any explanations first. She wasn't about to let that happen. Resisting the urge to cry out in agony, she crawled her way towards the nearest try, and then she supported herself with it using the arm that wasn't injured until she was able to stand on her feet. Someone shoot her again but hit the wood of the tree right next to her, and that urged her to keep walking to get out of there. She couldn't run anymore, but she limped as fast as she could.

She heard running water not far from there. Was it a river?

Yes, it was. Arya reached the riverside and stared into the brownish water that flowed in it. The river was wide and deep enough to get lost in it, but a million thoughts came into her mind. She was in India after all, lost in the middle of the jungle. She had no idea what she could find in those waters...

The men shot again, and missed. That action took her decision for her. Never in her right mind would she ever jump into the river, but she had no other choice. She took a deep breath and dove into the water.

It was colder than she expected, and filthy. When she opened her eyes underwater she couldn't see anything, and she felt the current taking her away. She wanted to swim to the surface, but then the men would see her and shoot. She didn't want to risk that.

She bit down on her tongue again. Her leg and shoulder hurt so bad...

Just when she thought that things couldn't go worse, they did. She could feel the men shooting at the water from the surface, but none of the billets fell near Arya, so they tried another option.

Arya didn't know they had thrown the grenade into the river until it exploded underwater. The grenade had fallen several feet away from her, so the explosion didn't hit her, but it did feel like her ears were exploding just as the grenade did. The force of the explosion was so strong that it send Arya spending rapidly over and over and over around herself, deeper into the water. She screamed, and her lungs filled with water. She choked and coughed, which flooded her lungs even more. She was sinking deeper into the river, and she didn't know which way was up and which way was down.

 _I'm going to drown..._ she realized. _I'm going to drown, I'm going to die..._

She didn't know how long she was underwater. She just knew that the river was taking her away and sinking her into it's deeper waters, and that her lungs and throat were on fire and she felt like her insides were going to explode. Was that was dying felt like? She hated it. They had lied to her, it wasn't a relief. It wasn't peaceful. It was hell...

No, she couldn't die there. She couldn't let herself die there. She had made a promise to herself, a promise to her sister...

 _I have to go back,_ she thought, not knowing any longer if she meant the King's Landing, the North, or simply just the surface of the river. _I have to go back..._

And so she kicked. It hurt like hell, but she kicked again. And again. And again... Until her head broke the surface of the river.

She crashed against a rock that was there right next to the riverside, and she held on to it for dear life. She coughed, and spit half the river out from inside her lungs.

_I did it... I did it._

She held on to the rock, not letting go but not knowing what to do next. She had managed to swim back to the surface, but she couldn't make herself step out of the river. Blood was pouring out of her wound and dying the surface of the rock and the water of the river red. She didn't know if the men were still there, if they could see her and were about to kill her. Maybe they were. Maybe she should have drowned after all and not have given them the satisfaction of ending her themselves...

Two hands held her arms then, and she gasped. She thought that they had found her, but when she looked up she found a familiar face.

"You are safe now, Arya," Jaqen H'ghat assured her as he pulled her out of the river. There was no sight of the men anywhere around the place. "You are safe now."


	23. Last Chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence against women. Not a lot, but there is some.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

Sansa stared at her reflection in the mirror while she brushed her hair. She had spent the last hour getting ready for her bachelorette party that night. She hadn't wanted to have a bachelorette party, but she hadn't dared to say so to Joffrey and Cersei, and much less to her mother. She didn't want to celebrate that those were her last days as an unmarried woman, she found no reason to; instead, she felt more like she was going to a funeral. Her own funeral.

However, if she didn't act like the enthusiastic and overly-excited going woman that she was supposed to be, she would raise suspicion. She had already acted off the day that she bought the wedding dress, and she couldn't let that happen again. She had to conceal her real emotions and pretend to be the happiest woman on Earth.

 _I was the happiest woman on Earth not long ago,_ she thought, recalling the days that she had spent away from King's Landing, in Tarth and in Highgarden and in Sunspear.

She had experienced heartache and sadness in those places as well, yes, but she had also experienced a happiness and a little bit of freedom that was enough to overshadow all the negative emotions. Sansa closed her eyes and recalled the memories from those days, and all the emotions she had felt. Every single one of them was linked to Sandor.

Sansa still could not understand how that man had gotten so deep inside his skin. Ever since she first saw him he hadn't been a simple bodyguard to her. Something about Sandor Clegane had drawn Sansa to him. She had seen past the scars and his coarseness and his tough facade, and she had felt attracted to the man and also fascinated by him. She had seen that he was different; he had helped her when no one else would, he had cared for her when he wasn't supposed to... It had taken Sansa a little bit of time to realize that Sandor Clegane had fallen in love with her, and it took her about the same time to realize that she loved him too. Oh, she did love him... Her love for him was so real now that it burned her inside, and the realization that she could never be with him physically hurt her.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and allowed herself to remember with detail her time with Sandor. She recalled his kisses on her lips and her neck, the touch of his calloused hands in her soft skin. She remembered the hard muscles under his warm skin, and how good it felt to touch him. For a moment he swore she could smell him...

She heard the door of her room opening and footsteps approaching her, but she didn't open her eyes. She was still focused on rme wrong the feeling of being in Sandor's arms when suddenly two cold hands touched her bare shoulders. She gasped and opened her eyes immediately, recognizing that touch. It was not Sandor's, and it was not welcome.

"Relax," Joffrey said in a mocking tone. He always had either that gone of an annoyed or cruel one whenever he spoke to Sansa.

His green eyes roamed over Sansa with cruel and sick lust, and Sansa could feel her stomach turning with disgust. Joffrey's expression showed that he liked what he saw: Sansa was dressed in a short deep purple dress that enhanced her beauty. He ran his hands up and down her arms, all the while staring at her cleavage, and she almost gagged.

She wanted him to leave, but that wasn't going to happen. She remained silent, waiting for whatever Joffrey wanted to say or do. She just hoped that it wasn't too bad, and that it ended soon.

"Wear this," Joffrey said then, picking up one of the pendants that were displayed on the boudoir in front of Sansa. She hated that pendant, it was the first gift that Joffrey had ever made to her. She didn't say anything, though, and she let Joffrey fasten it around her neck.

After Joffrey put the pendant on her, his hands started playing with her hair. Sansa locked her eyes on her own reflection in the mirror, and tried to ignore Joffrey's hands. She tried her best not to cringe at his touch, but her disgust and horror was imminent in her eyes. She bit the insides of her cheeks to try and keep her expression neutral, and fought back the burning in her eyes provoked by the tears that flooded them.

 _Not my hair,_ she pleaded in her mind. Her inner voice was bitter, and for a second she did look at Joffrey in the mirror. She was unable to hide the hatred in her eyes during that brief moment. _I hate it when you touch my hair. I doesn't feel good. I feel dirty when you touch it._

 _Stop_ , she wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She remained silent, and she closed her eyes. Only when she heard Joffrey kneeling on the floor at her side and felt his disgusting lips on her neck did she whimper. Joffrey noticed. She knew because she felt his smiling against the soft skin of her neck; he was deeply enjoying her discomfort. She held on so hard to her stool that she almost buried her fingernails in it. She managed to keep still and suffer through that torment, but she whimpered once again when she felt not only Joffrey's lips on her neck, but also his lustful tongue.

A soft, low, and cruel chuckle came out from Joffrey's mouth.

"What's the matter?" he asked, not even bothering to feign concern. He nipped at her neck, and this time Sansa did cringe. "Don't you like it? Not long ago you liked it when I touched you, I remember very well... You were a pretty little bitch, eager to please."

"Joffrey, please..." she cried softly, keeping her eyes closed and her face away for him. She was trying not to get sick, but it was hard.

Joffrey didn't listen. He never did; watching her suffering was what he enjoyed the most about her. Even before he killed her father he was like that with her, nasty and disrespectful. Sansa had had sex with him, yes. She was young and naive, and she had thought that she was in love. She had always wanted to wait for the right time, but there was no right time with Joffrey. He wanted her to please him, and she had wanted to please him because she had thought that that was the right thing to do, she didn't know any better. She had thought that she wanted it, and he had hurt her. He had hurt her in so many ways... Not always, not at first. Everything had been okay at first, at least that was what Sansa told herself. She had thought that she was in love, and she thought that Joffrey loved her too... It didn't take long to learn the truth. Sansa thought she was doing something wrong, that it was all her fault, and she ignored the voice in her head that screamed at her that _he_ was the one that was wrong. She shut that voice of truth in her head until it was too late...

"I like to touch you," Joffrey hissed, nipping painfully at her neck. His hand slid to her collarbones, and then down her cleavage...

Sansa gasped and stood up violently from the stool, throwing Joffrey away from her with the sudden movement, and she walked away from the boudoir and towards the door. Joffrey caught up with her with two single steps and grabbed her hair, making her cry. He turned her around so that she would face him, and his hold on her hair made her cry.

"Joffrey, stop!" she finally said, unable to contain herself. "Please, you are hurting me..."

"You can't get away from me, Sansa," Joffrey muttered. His other hand didn't touch her, but his eyes roamed her body hungrily. "You have done that for far too long, but our wedding is in three days... Then you will be mine completely to do as I please."

"And if I say no?" she suddenly snapped.

She could see Joffrey's eyes widening with surprise, and then a shadow of anger covered them. Even Sansa was surprised with herself, she had never dared to say something like that to Joffrey. She felt an unusual fit of bravery then, and she continued speaking as menacingly as she could manage. The roots of her hair hurt like hell where Joffrey was grabbing and pulling it, but she managed to be strong and stare at him straight in the eyes without shedding a tear.

"When the time comes and the priest asks me if I will marry you... What if I say no?" she asked defiantly. "You can't force me to marry you. My entire family and the whole country will be watching, you can't hurt me... If you dare to raise a hand to me or insult me in that place, you will be doomed. My brother will go after you, perhaps even the whole country will hate you if you hurt me then."

For a moment she believed that she saw admiration in Joffrey's eyes, perhaps provoked by her sudden and unexpected bravery. Sansa never fought back or talked back to him, that was a first; she always endured through whatever physical or mental torture he decided to impose on her. This side of Sansa was new and unknown to them both, and even Sansa was surprised with herself. She had never had that attitude before, where had that come from?!

 _I'm changing,_ she realized. _But this isn't the first time I've defied him... I've been doing it for a long time now, and he doesn't even know..._

That hunt of admiration that she thought she had seen if Joffrey's eyes disappeared soon enough, though. His face was once again a mask of viciousness and cruelty and hatred.

"Go on, do it," he said. "Leave me, humiliate me in front if everyone, be free. I can't stop you. But do you know what will happen then? Do you?!"

He raised his voice with that last question, and he pulled more from Sansa's hair. She whimpered again and shook her head. Joffrey smirked.

"Your little brother Rickon will die in a terrible car accident. He's young, he's a teenager, boys of his age drink and drive without thinking about the consequences. No one will ask questions, he will just be another teenager dead on the road."

" _Don't you dare-!_ " Sansa started shouting, but Joffrey stopped her and kept talking.

"Your other brother Bran will kill himself. He's a cripple, as he will be depressed. And that half brother of yours... he is in the army, isn't he? No one will be surprised if he blows to bits, it happens all the time. And if all this doesn't convince you, then think of your nephew. Boys his age are fearless and they have accidents."

Tears streamed down Sansa's face, and Joffrey wiped them away with his finger. He looked at her terrified eyes and smiled cruelly.

"If you don't want that to happen, marry me. If you don't, your whole family will end up like your daddy," he warned her. His words were like knifes, and Sansa felt that each one of them stabbed her heart a thousand times, causing her the worse pain that she had ever endured in her life. Powerless and helpless she nodded her head, letting him know that she wouldn't fail him. She would be his wife in three days time...

Joffrey smiled one last time, satisfied with himself.

"Good. Now clean yourself up before going down, I don't want anyone seeing you like this, you look like a mess. And if anybody doubts that you want this marriage to happen, I will give you a reason to really cry."

He let go of her then, and he left her bedroom. Sansa stood there for some time, staring into the void. She wanted to cry and scream, but she couldn't. She had cried to much already over the past year that her eyes were dry and empty, and she felt like she was drowning in her despair. She saw no way out of her nightmare.

She had considered all options, but all of them failed. Telling the authorities had been the first one, but who would believe her? Telling her family had been another, but then she would be putting them in a danger that she was not willing to put them in. She had wanted to run away by herself, but she wouldn't get far away enough before Joffrey found her.

She had gotten to a point where Joffrey's abuse was so bad and so cruel that she had just wanted to end it all. She had only thought about killing herself once in all that time, just once, when she had had enough and she thought that she couldn't take it anymore. But the memory of her family had stopped her from doing any stupidity. She had realized that ending her life would mean that Joffrey had won, that he had defeated her. She wouldn't let that happen, and she couldn't do that to her family. She couldn't do things the easy way, her parents had taught her to fight...

So she was fighting with the only weapons she had. She had her inner strength, she had her courtesies and politeness and her sweet words and her smiles. They kept her alive, they kept the people around her fooled (at least, the people that mattered,) and they kept Joffrey satisfied. That was all she needed for the moment. She needed to be one of them, and wait for the right moment.

Her last option had been running away with Sandor. Sansa knew that he wanted to keep her safe, and she knew that he would be able to take her away. They had had many chances already, but she hadn't taken any of them... The reason for that was that she wanted to keep him alive as well. If Sandor helped her escape, at some point Joffrey would find them and he would kill Sandor. Sansa would never forgive herself if anything bad happened to Sandor...

Her last hope was Arya. As much as Sansa hated the idea of her younger sister killing someone, she knew that she had no other option. Sansa knew that Arya could do it, and she also knew that Arya wanted to do it and that there was no stoping her, so she prayed for Arya to complete her mission soon.

 _Please, Arya..._ she thought in desperation while she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her make-up needed to be fixed. _I don't want you to have to do this, but I need to get out of this place... Please..._

Sansa had hope that everything would go alright. There were three days left until the wedding, and the Faceless Men had time before that to attack. Arya had promised her that she would save her.

 _Just be safe, little sister. Please,_ Sansa prayed. If the piece to pay for her freedom was Arya's life, then Sansa preferred to stay a prisoner to Joffrey rather than losing someone else that she loved.

She finished fixing her make up, and now she looked just as perfect as before. She kept staring at her reflection in the mirror, and she practiced her fake sweet smiles in it.

 _It's not so hard,_ she thought to herself. She had been doing those fake smiles for over a year. She had learned the art of smiling while feeling broken inside to the point of perfection. Only Sandor had been able to see the lie in her face and the truth in her eyes. _It's just like being in a movie._

With that last though she left her bedroom and walked down the hallway and downstairs, ready to meet her family and friends that had come to take her to her bachelorette party. They thought that it was going to be a fun and special night for her, while in truth it was the night that marked the beginning of hell in Earth for her.

However, no matter how much she was screaming and crying and getting broken inside, on the outside Sansa Stark looked like the most radiant, beautiful and happy bride-to-be in the entire world.

* * *

 

Sandor had had hopes of seeing Sansa before leaving with Joffrey and his friends and family and other bodyguards to celebrate his bachelor party. He was sure that that was being a terrible night for Sansa, and the smug smirk on Joffrey's face after coming downstairs right after leaving her bedroom only confirmed Sandor's fears. He didn't know what had happened inside that bedroom, but he hoped Joffrey hadn't dared to harm Sansa. He hoped not, because her mother and sister-in-law were right there... Joffrey wouldn't be so stupid, would he?

In any case, if Joffrey had done anything to Sansa, no matter what it was, it was enough reason for Sandor to want to rip his guts out of him. However, he knew that Sansa would stop him from doing so. The only reason why he listened to her on that matter and he didn't take any action against Joffrey was because he knew that the girl was right, that they could not win that fight. If someone took out Joffrey it couldn't be him, or he would be dead seconds after.

 _But what is my life worth compared to the little bird's? Nothing,_ he thought bitterly, hating to be helpless to do anything other than wait.

He at least hoped that Sansa wouldn't be so miserable due that she had her family with her. In the few occasions in which he had seen her around her family he had seen a genuine smile and relief on her face, and that was good. He hated to see her suffering...

Sandor, along with the other bodyguards, escorted Joffrey and his family and friends to the bachelor party. There were going to be two parts to it. First the most formal, which consisted in a dinner in one of the fanciest and most expensive restaurants of King's Landing, famous for serving politicians and other important and rich people the whole time. Sandor had never been more bored n his entire time. Having to stand there, hearing those idiots talking about shit, made him wish that he could take a bottle of wine and get drunk on it or, better yet, shove it down those fuckers's throats and choke them.

If at least he could eat some of that food... But no. No food for the bodyguards.

 _Maybe it's better that way, or I would get food poisoning from listening to all their bullshit..._ Sandor grunted in his mind. He was definitely not pleased with anything.

The second part of the bachelor party was only for Joffrey and his friends. The other men and boys, like Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Tommen Baratheon and such left, and Joffrey and his friends left with Sandor, Meryn, Boros and other bodyguards and drive to another restaurant. Sandor knew the place perfectly, it wasn't the first time that he had accompanied Joffrey and his busies there. Outside the place did look like a very fancy restaurant, but it was just a trick, an illusion so that politicians' reputation wouldn't be ruined by spying eyes. Once inside, Joffrey gave a password to one of the waiters, and the man led them all to a door in the back of the restaurant which led to the underground level of the place, where the real business was.

They were immediately surrounded by sensual and erotic music, darkness and red lights, the smell of strong alcohol, drunken laughs and the sight of beautiful, dancing, half-naked women. Joffrey and his friends cheered, while Sandor grunted under his breath. While he had frequented places like those back in the day, he didn't enjoy them anymore. The thought of looking at any other woman other than Sansa was unthinkable, and he wanted to get out. He did not fear temptation, neither did he feel lust, because he felt neither of them. He just didn't want to be in that kind of place anymore.

Joffrey and his friends, however, and even the other bodyguards, were deeply enjoying the place. They were quickly led to a privileged spot in the strip-club, where they had a great view of the place and the girls, but at the same time it was hidden and discreet. Strip-clubs weren't forbidden in Westeros, nor was prostitution, but it wouldn't be prudent that one of the candidates to Presidency was seen in there days before getting married to the other party's candidate's sister. Really, if Joffrey was smart he wouldn't have shown his face around that place, but his big flaw was that he believed himself to be king of the world.

The bodyguards took a seat around Joffrey and his friends so that they wouldn't be seen, but they were still able to keep an eye on the Governor. However, it looked like Sandor was the only one focusing on his job at the moment, while the other bodyguards were looking at the pole-dancing stripers with their moths hanging open. Of all the men in that place, Joffrey had the most disgusting and lustful expression of them all. He was checking out the girls; they were not only stripes, they were also prostitutes, and the young man was probably trying to decide which one (or which ones,) he would acquire for the night. Sandor grimaced in the dark.

 _Pathetic sick shit... If he does not care for his future wife, at least he could try and have some respect for his lover and future mother of his child,_ Sandor thought. Then he laughed under his breath. Who was he kidding? Joffrey has respect for no one, he didn't care for anyone, and less of all for women. He did what he pleased because he thought it was his right to do so.

And to think he was going to be Sansa's husband in three days... Sandor felt like he needed to puke.

"Mr. Baratheon!" one of the girls exclaimed, making her way to the young Governor. She was only wearing high leather boots and a thong, nothing more. She had long and curly strawberry blond hair, and blue eyes. Joffrey smiled like an idiot when he saw her, and the girl sat down on his lap. "It's been so long since we have had the pleasure of your company."

Joffrey friends whistled, and he kept grinning.

"I'm a busy man," he said, holding her with his hands. "But tonight we celebrate!"

"We will help you celebrate," the girl said, and she called for some other girls. Some prostitutes approached Joffrey's friends and sat with them, while the strippers danced in front of them.

Sandor paid them no attention. His eyes were fixed on the only place were no half naked women could be seen, and he was getting more and more distracted up to the point where he wasn't even listening to the music or hearing the laughs and conversation and drunken voices around him. He was so distracted that he didn't even hear Joffrey shouting:

"You! Take care of my dog!"

Before those words even had the chance to register in his brain, a girl appeared in front of him. Surprised, he moved back, which gave her space to place her long legs at each side of him. Sandor was still in shock because he hadn't been thinking and he hadn't expected that, so he did to move and he just looked at the stripper in front of him that was giving him a lap dance. He blinked several times and saw that the girl was just as bare as the other girls that were with Joffrey and his drunk friends: the only thing that covered her body was a very thin black thing and high black leather boots. All the rest of her was naked, and she was so close to him that she was practically shinning her huge and bare breasts in his face. He wanted to back away from her, but his seat wouldn't allow him to get very far.

_Seven fucking hells..._

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. The men surrounding him took it the wrong way, and everyone thought he was actually aroused when in reality he just wanted the girl to get the hell away from him. The whistled and laughed and encouraged the stripper to do obscene things.

The girl smiled, knowing that she could earn good money that night. She got even closer to Sandor, and then she rocked her hips against his and Sandor hissed. He didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit. In the past he had enjoyed those places and watching those women, but that was before he had someone he cared about, before he even thought that someone could ever love him. Now, the only thing that was in his mind was the image of Sansa's face. Everything that the woman was doing had no effect on him, and even though he should be aroused already, his cock remained limp.

Joffrey and his friends were still laughing, amused by the spectacle that they were witnessing. From the angle from which they were looking, the only thing they could see was Sandor getting a lap dance from a half-naked striper. Joffrey's laugh was the loudest of them all.

"Guys, look!" he chuckled. "If the place was darker I would swear that my dog is fucking my fiancée!"

Another explosion of laughter followed. Sandor frowned, having no idea what Joffrey was talking about. He threw his head back to have a better look at the woman. It was just them that Sandor realized that the striper had long red hair. It was lighter than Sansa's, but in the darkness and the red lights of that place it looked almost the same color as the auburn hair of the Stark girl.

Feeling a wave of fury like none other that he had ever experienced before stirring inside of him, Sandor pushed the striper away without any kind of delicacy. The woman stumbled and almost fell but she didn't; he paid her no attention and he stood up, grunting angrily before walking away and heading towards the staircase. Once out of the secret strip club, he crossed the restaurant until he found the back exit, and he went out the door and walked I to a dark and deserted back alley.

The night was cold, and midst came out Sandor's mouth, white against the darkness around him. It was already April in Westeros, which meant that they were halfway through autumn in the southern half of the country. Winter was coming soon, and Sandor didn't like it.

He searched inside his pockets and found the phone that Arya Stark had given him and Sansa when they met her in the cave in Tarth. The phone had been for Sansa, because she couldn't call her sister with her own phone because it had a bug, but since Joffrey was always looking through her things and registering everything it would be too dangerous for her to keep it, so Sandor had kept it. He looked at the only number saved in the list of contacts, and then he dialed it without hesitation.

The phone rang for a long time, and for a moment he thought that maybe they weren't going to pick up, but he wasn't going to give up. He needed those fuckers to pick up, he needed them...

Finally, someone answered the phone on the other side of the line.

 _"Hello?"_ the voice that answered was not Arya Stark's, but Sandor recognized the fake pizza delivery guy that had taken him and Sansa to the cave.

"It's me," he rasped.

 _"Has something happened?"_ Jaqen H'ghar asked immediately, seeming worried.

"No. But something was supposed to happen. You said that you were going to get rid of him. That was fucking months ago," Sandor hissed angrily.

_"That was the plan, but there were complications."_

" ** _Fuck complications!_** " Sandor barked. "The wedding is in three fucking days, and I will not stand there watching it happening!"

 _"You will have to,"_ Jaqen said calmly at the other side of the line. _"Arya wanted to go back to Westeros and kill him before the wedding, but it will not be possible."_

"What do you mean, it will not be possible?!"

 _"Our boss told us to do something else before we could fly to Westeros and kill Joffrey. If we didn't do it, then we didn't have permission, and if you do something without the boss's permission you are dead,"_ Jaqen explained. _"Arya accepted, so we flew to India to do what the boss asked us to do. We are trapped here now."_

"Trapped?"

_"Someone attacked us. Some men, we don't know who they are... They killed all the other men that were with us, and they tried to kill Arya and me. She almost didn't make it."_

" _Fuck_. Is she okay?" Sandor asked, worried. He couldn't imagine anything worse than having to tell the little bird that her sister was dead, so he hoped that the Stark girl was fine.

_"Yes, but she was hurt. In other circumstances it would be nothing, but we were stuck in the jungle for over a week, and her wounds got infected. Mine too, but I wasn't shot, she was. We are in a city now, and she's much better, but we are still stuck in India."_

"Why? Can't any of your men go and pick you up from there?"

_"The boss has forbidden it. He knows that Ary wants to kill Joffrey, but he wants to know who the men that tried to kill us were, and why they wanted to kill us. They said they were there to stop us from killing Joffrey."_

"They were protecting him? That can't be, he doesn't know who you are! He's still trying to find out who shot him!"

 _"Which is why out boss is so worried,"_ Jaqen H'ghar said. _"Who are these men? What do they want, and why? The boss wants Arya and me to stay here to stop is from doing anything before he finds an answer and makes a decision..."_

"Fuck that," Sandor rasped. "If you are not doing it, I will do it."

 _"Don't,"_ Jaqen warned him. _"If you kill Joffrey it could have serious consequences. The first one of them would be that you would be dead five seconds later."_

" ** _Do you think that I care about my life when Sansa's is about to become hell?_** " Sandor hissed. His grip on the phone tightened so much that he feared he was going to break it.

_"You can keep her safe, but you can't keep her safe by killing Joffrey. Everyone would see it as murder, and the Lannisters will make sure that she is seen as your accomplice. The truth about you two will come out, and her life will continue being hell. She could go to jail."_

"She won't know that I'm going to kill him, I will just do it."

_"The Lannisters won't care. They are powerful. If you kill Joffrey, she will be your accomplice. You will die, and she will go to jail, and then you won't have saved her, you will have ruined her."_

" ** _Then what the fuck do I do?!_** "

_"Protect her. Be there for her, that's all you can do for the moment."_

"That's easier said than done..."

 _"Well, you have to,"_ Jaqen said. _"Now destroy this phone, it's too dangerous."_

"How will we contact you, then?"

_"We will contact you when the time is right."_

Jaqen H'ghar hung up the phone, and Sandor stared at it thinking about all the things he had said. Things were getting too complicated of now another group of mercenaries was involved in that war, this time protecting Joffrey. Sandor had never thought that things would get so dark...

He had never felt more powerless either. He had thought for a moment that all he had to do was put a gun in Joffrey's head and pull the trigger, it would be so easy... He was willing to do it for Sansa, but Jaqen was right. The Lannisters would never let her go if that happened, and things could get even worse for her.

He would have screamed full of rage in that moment if he hadn't been afraid that someone might hear him and it would raise suspicion. Instead, he was forced to keep all his rage and desperation inside of him, and it felt like it choked him. He threw the phone to the floor and stepped on it furiously, destroying it in pieces. He then grabbed the card and broke it in half, and he carried the ruined phone to the nearest garbage and threw it then.

After barely accepting that there was nothing that he could do to stop that wedding, he returned inside the restaurant.


	24. Vows Are Spoken To Be Broken.

Three days later, the day of the wedding arrived.

The day had been crazy so far; from the moment Sansa had woken up she had started getting ready for her wedding, which was that day in only a few hours.

Professional hairdressers had done her hair for that special occasion. Her beautiful auburn hair had been carefully washed and dried and brushed and combed until a bright and perfect red cascade of curls fell down her back, and then it had been put up in an updo that had a romantic style to it, and it was been decorated with a few small white flowers. Then the make-up artist made her make-up: it was very natural, and instead of making her beauty look artificial it just enhanced the extraordinary beauty that she had been born with. Sansa looked sweet and dreamy and gorgeous, and when she smiled she looked like an angel.

Her mother Catelyn and her sister-in-law Talisa helped her put the dress on. It was the last thing that she did because she didn't want to ruin it before leaving the mansion to go to the cathedral where the ceremony was going to take place. Personally, Sansa didn't want that wedding to be perfect. She had prayed for the weather to be bad or for some disaster to happen so that the wedding was cancelled; but she was out of luck. The skies were clear, the sun was shinning even though it was almost winter, and everything was going as planned. It almost made her cry.

On one hand it was good, though. If the wedding was canceled she would have to go through all the process all over again and she would end up having to marry Joffrey sooner or later, so at least she was getting it over with. However, it would have been easier to hide her extreme sadness and despair if there was an obvious reason for her to be feeling that way, and she wouldn't have to work so hard all day to keep smiling perfectly. If her dress got stained or the weather was bad or the flowers were not of her liking she couldn't have started crying like she wanted to cry...

"You are beautiful," Catelyn said, getting emotional, when Sansa was done getting ready.

Sansa looked at her at the full-length mirror. She did look beautiful, and for a moment she stared at her own reflection with surprise. What she saw in that mirror in front of her was everything that she had always dreamed for her wedding. It circumstances were different, that would have been the most perfect day of her life...

But it wasn't.

"Thank you, Mom," she said. Even though inside she felt she had a hurricane destroying her, on the outside her smile was flawless.

"Joffrey is going to faint when he sees you," Talisa said, and she winked. "He's such a lucky man."

"Robb is luckier, he has you!" Sansa said, and Talisa giggled as blushed.

She straightened the skirt of her dress and put on her earrings, two pearls in the form of teardrops, and then she waited until they were all ready to go downstairs and get out of the mansion. They were the only ones left in the Red Keep, apart from the bodyguards. The Lannisters and Baatheons had left early in the morning with Joffrey and they had left Sansa with the professionals and her family. Joffrey never allowed Sansa to stay alone with her family, but with the threat that he had given her the other day she knew that he knew for sure that she wouldn't do anything foolish.

They left the mansion and entered the limo, which drove then to the other side of the city, to the Sept of Baelor. Because that was the place where all important events happened, and the entire country had it's attention on that wedding, the ceremony was going to take place in that glorious and ancient cathedral. It was been decorated with flowers and the steps had been covered with a long red carpet that led all the way to the entrance, and the altar.

When the limo stopped in front of the Sept of Baelor, one of the bodyguards opened the door for them and helped Catelyn and Talisa out first. The last one to step out of the car was Sansa, and she was greeted by the cheers of thousands of people that were standing outside of the cathedral. They had all been waiting there for the moment when the bride would arrive so that they could be the first to see her and the dress. The whole country was indeed completely focused on that wedding, and they were excited to witness the union between the Baratheons and the Starks. It was a very awaited event, and they all wanted to express their support to the Stark bride. Sansa looked at all of them in shock at first. She had seen that people through the windows of the limo while they were driving there, but she had never expected them to be so enthusiastic and loud. The wave of cheers hit her like a truck, but she quickly blinked and recovered. Even though she was still shocked and, instead of feeling supported, she felt even more suffocated than before (she realized now that everyone wanted to see her married to Joffrey, and it just made the nightmare that she was living feel even worse than it already did,) she smiled and raised her arm and waved her hand in the air to greet them. Those people were trying to give her their best wishes, after all, and most of them were her fans and loved her. She should at least try to thank them for being there. As she waved and smiled, the sound of the cheering intensified. Moments later she turned her back on them and walked up the steps of the Sept of Baelor towards the main entrance, which was open for her.

Once inside, Talisa left the group to go to her place among the guests, and only Catelyn remained there at Sansa's side. They were behind the doors to the main chapel of the cathedral, which were closed so that no one would see the bride before she was ready to walk in. Catelyn used that time to fix a few details of Sansa's hair and her dress and her long veil, and then she handed her the flower bouquet that she had been holding for her. Sansa noticed a few tears peering on the corner of her mother's eyes, and she chuckled.

"Mom, are you crying?" she asked, and Catelyn quickly wiped the tears away.

"No! Well... Yes, but it's because I'm happy! It's not everyday that a mother gets to see her daughter getting married..."

"You saw Robb getting married."

"Robb is not my daughter."

"True," Sansa chuckled. Despite everything, her mother could still make her laugh. That served to make her a little bit less miserable.

"Your father would be very proud," Catelyn suddenly said. She meant it as a compliment, obviously, but Sansa's misery returned with all its full strength, and she almost broke down crying, but she didn't. She had managed to be strong up until that moment, she wasn't going to ruin everything right before walking down the aisle.

Naturally, Catelyn thought that Sansa's sadness was due to the memory of her father. Sansa was indeed crying because of it, but because of reasons different than what Catelyn thought. Her mother took out a handkerchief to clean Sansa's tears.

"Carefull now," she murmured. "You don't want to ruin your make-up..."

"No," Sansa agreed, and she made her best effort to stop the tears to stop streaming down her face. She succeeded.

Her brother Robb arrived soon after, entering the small hall in which they had been waiting for him. Once he was there, Catelyn left, leaving her two eldest children there. Because her father had died, Robb was going to be the one to walk Sansa down the aisle that day. Robb smiled and hugged his sister.

"I can't believe you are getting married today!" he exclaimed while he hugged her, and she shrugged.

"I know! Neither can I... You are so handsome today," she said once she let go of him.

"And you're beautiful!" he said, just like everyone else had been doing that day. Sansa thanked him, and then Robb became a bit more serious. "I have to ask you , Sansa... Do you really want to do this?"

Sansa frowned upon hearing that question. She immediately beams worried. Had she let anything slip out? Had she not played her part well? Had she not fooled them? Had her brother figured anything out? If he had, then Sansa was doomed and her family was doomed. She nodded, trying to keep calm.

"Yes, of course."

"I just want to make sure that you are happy. You are my little sister, I want the best for you."

"I know, Robb, and I love you for it."

"I love you too," Robb said, and he smiled to her. Sansa loved that smile. It brought her back memories from her home, from Winterfell, and from old times when she was younger and she was happy with her siblings and her parents. Life was easy, and it was all safe and good. That smile gave her the courage to go on, to take her brother's arm and stand in front of the doors that separated them from everyone else in the main chapel.

_I'm doing this for you, for all of you,_ Sansa thought. She knew that her wedding was a sacrifice that was needed for her family's sake, and she was willing to do it. _I can't fail you now._

"Ready?" her brother asked.

She took a deep breath, and then she nodded.

"Ready."

* * *

 

The doors opened and the nuptial march started playing. All the guests turned around to look at the main entrance and they stood up to greet the bride. Then she walked in.

Sandor had thought he was handling all the emotions of that day more or less alright, until that moment. He had been following Joffrey around all day while the groom got ready and went to the Sept of Baelor to wait for the wedding to start. Sandor had been trying to focus on his duties as a bodyguard so that he could ignore the voice inside of him that was screaming with rage, and so that he could ignore the way in which he seemed to be ripping himself apart from the inside out. He tried not to think that that day he was going to lose Sansa forever. The day of the wedding had arrived, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had tried to convince himself that it did not matter, that a wedding was just a wedding, nothing else. A ceremony and a piece of paper, it didn't change anything... He had almost succeeded at thinking that, he had almost succeeded at shutting off the pain inside of him, until Sansa walked inside the cathedral. As soon as he set eyes on her he knew that he was ruined.

Sansa was an angel of beauty that day. Sandor managed to see her well from the place that he had been assigned as one of the bodyguards, and he had to control himself so that his mouth wouldn't hang open in awe. Everyone's reaction seemed to be the same, but it was impossible not to be amazed by Sansa that day.

She was walking down the aisle in a full-length white dress with a trumpet silhouette. It had an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves made of delicate lace that went down to her elbows. There was lace on the bodice of the dress as well, giving it an elegant, romantic and sophisticated look, and there was lace covering Sansa's bare skin up to her collarbones and her back too. Her long veil didn't cover her face, allowing everyone to appreciate her beautiful face, but it did fall over her back and the floor behind her. On her hands she held a bouquet made of white and red roses.

As he watched her walking down the aisle to the rhythm of the nuptial march, Sandor caught himself wishing with all his strength that it was him at the altar waiting for her. He wanted it to be him the one she was marrying, not Joffrey... He hadn't realized how much he wanted that until he actually saw Sansa there, and he knew that she was completely out of his reach now, and in a few moments it would be forever.

Turns out that wedding did matter after all...

Sansa reached the altar and gave her brother a kiss in the cheek before he left to go to his seat next to his wife and son, and she took her place on the altar next to the groom.

Joffrey had the biggest smile that no one had ever seen on him ever, but it wasn't a real smile. Sandor knew it for what it really was: a smile of victory, or power, of dominance. He was celebrating in his mind his victory over Sansa, he had finally gotten what he wanted. Sansa was doing a brilliant job in appearing to be excited and nervous and happy, and Sandor thought that it was no wonder that she had won an Oscar for her acting. Oh, how he wished that someone would see through her act and stop that farce...

_Please..._ he begged in his mind. For such a non-religious man, he had caught himself praying more often than ever since he met Sansa. His gaze rose to look at the enormous cross on the wall of the cathedral: the Sept of Baelor had been a temple to pagan gods in ancient times, but when times changed it had changed it's purpose to serve the Christian God. _Please stop this..._

He prayed for a miracle. It was foolish, he knew it, but he did it nevertheless. He had to at least try.

He set his eyes on the altar again, looking at Sansa and Joffrey. They were not facing the priest, who had started to officiate the ceremony. Sandor felt a pang in his chest. That could not be happening. He didn't want it to happen. He had never thought that it would hurt so much. The feeling was suffocating.

_Sansa, look at me..._ he thought. _Look at me, please..._

But she didn't. Sansa was looked to the priest that was speaking at that moment.

A short mass came first. Later, the actual marriage ceremony started.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony." He went on an one explaining something, but Sandor wasn't listening. He couldn't care less about the priest's words, he could just focus on the look on Sansa's face. From where he was standing he could see her a bit sideways, and it was enough to see that her smile was fading and that was becoming much more difficult for her. "Joffrey and Sansa, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"Yes," they both said.

_No..._

"Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes."

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church."

_What consent?_ Sandor thought, enraged. _She's being forced into this, you witless fool! How can you not notice it? How can't any of you buggers notice?! She doesn't want this!_

Joffrey and Sansa turned to face each other and they held each other's hands while they looked into their eyes. Sansa gave her bouquet to someone so that she could hold Joffrey's hands, and then Sandor could see her breathing deeply. He had known how brave she was since long ago, but being there at that moment watching her suffer through that wedding with such composure confirmed to him that she had a backbone made of steel. The question was: did he have the same strength to remain saw until the end of that ceremony? Would he be able to endure it? He thought it would be easier than that.

"Joffrey, do you take Sansa to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?" the priest asked Joffrey.

"I do," it was amazing how quickly he said those words. It was as if he couldn't wait a second longer to have full power over Sansa, to be her husband and own her, and all that came with her. Sandor felt sickened.

It was now Sansa's turn...

"Sansa, do you take Joffrey to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?"

Sansa didn't respond as quickly as Joffrey had. In fact, it seemed that she wasn't going to respond at all. Moments passed, and she was silent. She was finally hesitating. Because of how she was standing, Sandor could now see her face perfectly and he saw her hesitation, the doubt in her eyes. No one else saw it, but he did see her fear. She wanted to say no, and she was finding herself in a struggle that had left her completely frozen.

She tried to say something, but the words were caught in her throat. To everyone else it was just nervousness because of everything that was happening, but Sandor could see that she was panicking. Joffrey saw it too. He tightened his hold on Sansa's hands, crushing them inside his. For a split second Sansa gasped in pain, and Sandor couldn't help it and he took a step forward. No one noticed except Sansa, and she did look at him then for the first time since she had entered that place.

For a moment it seemed like she was going to crumble down to pieces. Sansa had been avoiding his gaze to avoid the same pain that he was feeling, but it wasn't possible anymore. She held herself together, though, and when she realized that Sandor was about to intervene she quickly shook her head in a very, very discreet way. He caught the message, and even though it seemed impossible he manage to stop himself and stay in his place. He didn't say anything.

Sansa looked at him for one more second before looking at Joffrey again and gathering enough strength to nod and say:

"I do."

The place was filled then with murmurs of the guests. They were happy murmurs, and murmurs of relief. A lot of tension had built up during those moments of silence in which they were all waiting for Sansa to reaping to the priest's questions, and now that tension was gone. The ceremony continued, the guests fell silent, and the priest proceeded with the blessings.

"May the Lord bless these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity."

The rings were given to Joffrey and Sansa, and Joffrey took Sansa's hand and placed the ring given to him on her finger.

"Sansa, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

Everyone smiled happily, but Sandor was fuming. Lies, it was all lies!

It was Sansa's turn to do the same. It took her longer, just like it had taken her longer to say "I do," because her hand was shaking. It was shaking so much that she almost dropped the ring to the floor, but she managed to avoid that. She chuckled.

"I'm sorry," she excused herself, looking at the priest and at the guests and at everyone except Joffrey, who was getting annoyed and tried to hide it. "I'm so nervous..."

Everyone laughed softly, thinking that it was all so romantic and sweet, and Sans chuckled again.

"Don't worry, my love," Joffrey said. His voice was sweet, but his tone was menacing, warning her not to mess up anything.

Sansa gulped and studied her hand, and she finally placed the ring in Joffrey's finger.

"Joffrey... take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

_No!_

The priest said more things, but Sandor was definitely not listen anymore, not until the man joined the couple's right hands together and said:

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

More blessings came, and then Sansa and Joffrey quickly signed the legal papers that were provided to them so that they would be wed by the laws of men as well. There was no going back now, there was no undoing what had been done. Joffrey and Sansa were married in the eyes of God and men, and Sandor was powerless to do anything.

_I lost her._

Nothing could have readied him for that moment. He knew it was coming, he knew he was going to feel like shit. He was going to feel even worse than that. If he had to compare that feeling to that of being burned, he would say that he preferred to be burned a thousand times fold than to watch Sansa get married to Joffrey. The knowledge that, even though Sansa was bow someone else's wife, her heart belonged to him was a small consolation. But it wasn't the fact that she was someone's wife that hurt him so much. What hurt him was that he hadn't been able to save her. Before there was a small chance of getting her to avoid going through that hell; now it was impossible.

Everyone awaited the final words of the priest, the ones that would completely mark that Sansa and Joffrey were now completely united. Sandor prayed again, he prayed one last time so that the man would not say the words. He prayed so that everything was a bad joke, or one of his nicknames. He wanted to wake up screaming in the middle of the night and find out that it had all been a nightmare, and a terrible one at that. He wanted to wake up in Tarth, with Sansa still in his arms, so warm, so soft... His. Only his. And safe. That's what he wanted.

But of course. This was reality. And his prayers got him nothing.

The words were going to be said. He looked at Sansa and saw that she was crying; her invisible armor was finally broken. Tears streamed down her face like coursing rivers, but she disguised them as tears of bliss.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And with a kiss, Joffrey and Sansa officially sealed in front of everyone their union as husband and wife.

Sandor closed his eyes. He couldn't look at them anymore, he just couldn't.

Slowly, a solitary tear escaped from him and ran down his face, leaving behind a wet trail for many more that were to come to follow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wedding finally happened! Nooooo! xD
> 
> I took the title of the chapter from the song "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode.
> 
> Also, I decided to write the wedding as a Catholic ceremony cause I'm Catholic and those are the ceremonies that I'm familiar with, not for any other reason.
> 
> Next chapter will be about the wedding reception! This is not over yet haha!
> 
> One last thing, this chapter is not beta'd. I haven't seen any outrageous mistakes around there but it's too late and I don't trust myself. Autocorrect hates me.


	25. Our Choices Seal Our Fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I finished writing this chapter quickly on my way to the airport. I wanted to update now because I have no idea when I will be able to update again. I'll fix autocorrect mistakes while I wait for my second plane later today. (I hate planes... *cries*)
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons.

The wedding reception was held in the King's Landing Country Club, a place chosen by the Lannister family to celebrate the event. It was one of the most luxurious in the entire country (having not the most of them all,) having all kinds of installations and facilities. It was one if the favorite places of the richest people of the city to spend their free time, and it was big enough to host all the guests that had attended the wedding. King's Landing Country Club was indeed a wonderful place to hold the wedding reception and celebrate: the main building was a huge luxurious villa that was centuries old and had a beautiful and classic look. The villa was near the beach, but because it was autumn and the sea breeze was cold, all the guests went to celebrate inside the villa, where they were greeted by waiters with glasses of champagne and platters filled with delicacies. Everyone laughed and ate and drank and talked merrily, thoroughly enjoying the experience. An orchestra played classical music in the background, providing a calm, happy and elegant environment for everyone in there.

The guests had all been gathered in the main room of the villa: a 5000 square feet ballroom. It looked like it had been taken straight out of a fairy tale. Three crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating every single corner of the ballrooms. One of the walls was replaced entirely by French doors was allowed everyone inside the ballroom to see the magnificent views to the ocean: the sky was clear, the water was calm, and the waves broke against the shore and then got carried away back into the ocean over and over again.

The ballroom had been filled with round tables covered with fine white table linens with embroidery, and white flower centerpieces had been placed on them. Some of the guests were starting to seat down on the tables, while some of them went to the empty space in the middle of the ballroom that had been reserved for dancing. The orchestra continued playing, people continued drinking and dancing and chatting, and the cameras started flashing like crazy.

Because that was the wedding between a powerful politician and a famous star, the paparazzi had of course arrived to take as many pictures of the event as they could. That was the wedding of the century, after all. Apart from that, because of who the newlyweds were, dozens and dozens of politicians and other powerful people had come as guests of both the groom and the bride, and many famous actors and singers and other celebrities had been invited as friends of the bride. Even the guests that had nothing to do with politics or the world of fame were getting attention, because all the friends of the couple belonged to distinguished families in Westerosi society.

Among all the guests dressed in fancy and expensive suits and colorful dresses and among all the flashing cameras and the dancing people and the waiters, dozens and dozens of security people in black suits could be spotted all over the place, walking around. Sandor was one of them, and he was certainly not enjoying the celebration in the very least.

As soon as the wedding ceremony had been over and the guest had started leaving the cathedral, he rushed to leave that place to find somewhere to hide. He had found a dark corner where he was shielded from curious eyes and he allowed himself to unleash a bit of his fury. He had punched the stone wall so hard that his knuckles bursted and were bleeding, and his kept himself from screaming in frustration by putting his other fist in his mouth. Then, after having ruined his hand against the stone wall and feeling calmer than before, he wiped the tears away from his face. No one could see him crying, it would be extremely suspicious and it would give everything away.

_I haven't cried since I was a child,_ he had thought to himself after feeling the wetness in his face and in his hand.

He felt like he was going through the worst of the tortures, and there was still a long way to go before it could stop. He wasn't looking forward to the hours in which absolutely everyone around him would be celebrating that cursed wedding. He wanted to bloody gut everyone in that place for being able to drink and laugh and dance on a day like that, while he was there going through Hell... And Sansa. Where was Sansa?

He couldn't see her anywhere. He did see the Lannisters sitting at a table across the ballroom, chatting with the Starks. Cersei Lannister was talking with Catelyn Stark, and even though she had a friendly smile on her face her eyes revealed that she deeply disliked her son's new mother-in-law. Judging by the other woman's expression, the feeling was mutual. Robb Stark was standing up a few feet away with a glass of champagne in his hand, and he was speaking with Tywin Lannister. They weren't alone: Roose Bolton, Theon Greyjoy and Kevan Lannister were also with them. They were surely speaking about politics; everyone knew that if Robb Stark won the elections, he was going to elect Theon Greyjoy as Vice President and Roose Bolton would be his Secretary of State. Kevan Lannister, on the other hand, would have some equally important job in his grandnephew's office if Joffrey was the one who became President. All those men were clearly trying to engage in friendly conversation while finding out about each other's strengths and weaknesses through the mirage of politeness. Sandor snorted when he saw them. The next people he spotted were Jon Snow, Sansa's half-brother, talking with Tyrion Lannister and Gendry Baratheon, and Myrcella and Rickon flirting. Sandor raised his eyebrows with surprise when he saw that. Bran Stark was by himself, going around the tables in his wheelchair, until he almost ran into Tommen Baratheon and the two started talking. The only one that was all by himself was Jaime Lannister, who was going around looking for some food to throw inside his mouth until he decided to amuse himself by annoying the gigantic female bodyguard that had been Renly's bodyguard until the man died, and was now working with the Tyrells. The two of them seemed to be acquainted with each other already, and Jaime said something to the woman that Sandor could not hear but judging by the woman's expression he was surprise that she didn't slap Jaime then and there in front of everyone. She blushed furiously and have the blonde man a death glare that made Jaime laugh. From afar, Cersei ignored Catelyn Stark for a moment to glare disapprovingly at her brother and the woman.

Sandor had already localized all the Lannisters, Baratheons and Starks around the ballroom, and the only ones that he was missing were Sansa and Joffrey.

He was going to start searching for them when suddenly he finally localized them. There were together, facing the cameras and smiling and allowing the paparazzi to take some pictures. Joffrey was saying something to the reporters that had been allowed in the place and that were using their time as best as they could before they were kicked out. The reporters were practically shoving the microphones in Joffrey's face, a thing that he always hated, but he was in too good a mood that day to protest or get annoyed by that. Sansa was just standing next to her husband, holding his hand and smiling like she was supposed to do. When he saw them, Sandor approached them. The reporters were already being told to leave the place, but Sandor arrived in time to hear them asking Sansa a question.

"Sansa! How do you feel?" a female reporter asked the young woman, and it took Sansa a moment before she smiled radiantly, appearing like she was ecstatic, and said:

"I'm so blessed! This is the best day of my day, and I couldn't be happier that it had finally come!"

_What a good actress she's become,_ Sandor thought, impressed by how genuine she looked and sounded.

Right after Sansa said that, Sandor and the other bodyguards and security staff made the reporters and paparazzi leave the place, allowing only the hired professional photographers to stay to take the wedding photos that had been requested by the family. While Sandor was occupied making the reporters leave, Sansa moved to the other side of the ballroom. She was approached by her family: they all smiled and hugged her and congratulated her, but it didn't escape Sandor how none of the girl's brothers talked to Joffrey. They barely looked at him, and when they did they didn't make a big effort trying to feign excessive friendliness.

When Joffrey figured out that he was going to be ignored by the younger Stark siblings, he decided to walk off to find someone that would entertain him more. He did find that person in the form of Margaery Tyrell. It surprised Sandor to see her. The last time he had seen the woman had been at her husband's funeral several months ago, and she had changed much since then. She now displayed a large, round pregnant belly...

_That's Joffrey's son..._ Sandor realized, staring at Margaery's belly.

Suddenly his mind offered him the most terrible of images. He saw Sansa in Margaery's place, but equally pregnant. It was Sansa alright, with her creamy skin and her blue eyes and her auburn hair... but she was different, because her belly was also large and round, heavy with Joffrey's child. Sandor tried to shake that horrible image away from his head, but he couldn't. He blinked several times, trying to erase the image, but even when he closed his eyes he kept seeing it and when he opened his eyes again the image was still there. It was a nightmare, but the scariest and most horrifying thing was that one day that image could stop being an hallucination and it could become reality. Sansa was now Joffrey's wife, and she could very well end up just like the man's lover...

The thought of Sansa bearing Joffrey's child made him see red. He felt the rage in his bones, the fury in his blood, the disgust in the bike that suddenly rose to his mouth. He wanted to crack skulls and break bones, he wanted to take out his gun and blow up Joffrey's head before the night came and the moment can for the... The...

_The wedding night._

No. _No_. Not his little bird...

He took his rage out on the reporters and paparazzi that insisted on staying in the reception and tried to resist the security staff that pushed them out to the exit.

" ** _OUT!_** " he barked, and everyone (even the rest of the security staff,) jumped in the air out of fright. " _Get the fuck out, all of you! **Now!**_ "

He didn't have to say it twice. The reporters and the paparazzi ran and got to the exit as fast as they could. Once they were out, one of the bodyguards closed the doors and then turned to face Sandor and whistled, impressed.

"You have them quite the scare, Clegane!"

"Don't fucking talk to me today," Sandor grunted, leaving the man stunned by his hateful tone.

He paid no attention to the guests that were close enough to have heard him and were looking a him startled and a bit horrified by his bad manners. He was making his way to the center of the ballroom when he saw Sansa leaving her family's side and heading towards one of the exits of the ballroom that lead to the hallways of the villa. Once she was gone, Sandor very carefully moved through the crowd trying not to be very obvious as he made his way for that same exit. Then, once he reached it and made sure that no one was looking at him, he left the ballroom quickly. He walked down the halls of that place, trying to figure out where Sansa had gone. What he was doing was a stupidity and he knew it; he should stay as far away as possible from her that day unless he wanted to risk someone seeing them and drawing wrong conclusions (or the right ones, really,) and then both of them would be fucked. But his emotions again won against his rational thoughts, and he eventually found the place where Sansa was.

She had gone into a large restroom far away from the ballroom, where she could be away from the wedding reception and away from everyone in it. Sansa was standing in front of the sinks and the mirrors, and she was trying to wash her face as much as she could without ruining her make-up. She had been crying after the wedding, and everyone was moved because they had believed then to be happy tears. She had been crying on her way from the ballroom to the restroom as well, and her eyes were red and swollen. She has sobbing lowly, and she gasped when Sandor opened the door of the restroom and entered it. He stared at her and then he closed the door behind him and locket it so that no one could come in while they were in there.

"What are you doing in here?" Sansa asked. She sounded upset and demanding.

"Are you alright?" Sandor asked, ignoring her question, and Sansa scoffed.

"Am I alright? Are you seriously asking me that question, Sandor?"

"I know how you feel, Sansa," he assured her. He knew better than anyone else that she was going through one of the worst days of her life, and that inside she was breaking into tiny pieces and that she was hurting. He was feeling the same way, only for him it wasn't nearly as bad; he wasn't the one that was marrying a murderer. "I'm worried about you."

"Yes, I'm alright," Sansa said then, relaxing a little bit. Now she sounded and looked exhausted. "I just... It's too much. I couldn't stay there a minute longer, I felt I was going to snap at somebody and I can't... This day has to be perfect, I can't ruin anything. I've gotten this far," she sighed, lowering her gaze to the floor.

He took a few steps forward to her closer to her, and then he carefully cupped her face between his rough hands and made her look up to him. She wasn't crying anymore, but the pain reflected in the blue pools of her eyes was overwhelming. She tried to conceal it, but it was too much for her alone.

"I should have stopped it," Sandor whispered, referring to the wedding ceremony. There was hate in his voice; hatred towards the man that was putting Sansa through that, hatred towards all the people that were stupid enough to not realize what was happening there, hatred towards all the people allowing that to happen, and most of all, hatred towards himself for being a coward. "I could have stopped it, you know I would have..."

"I couldn't let you do that," Sansa sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head lightly. "If you had, we would be-"

"Doomed, I know. And what are we now? What's the bloody difference?" he hissed angrily and desperately. "Look at you Sansa... This is not fair for you."

"Neither is it for you!" she exclaimed, more upset that she was before. She raised her hands and held in them Sandor's hands, which were still cupping her face. She stroked his hands with her fingers, and she shook her head again. "I'm not suffering alone anymore, I have dragged you into this situation and I... I feel terrible! You shouldn't have to be going through this, you shouldn't be feeling like this! This is not your war to fight!"

"It is now!" he rasped, a bit too roughly maybe, but he couldn't help it. "How could I not be feeling like this when I am watching you sacrificing yourself for everyone's sake? How could I ever look away from all this and not feel anything? Even before I got to know you, before everything that happened between us happened, even when I almost hated you I couldn't look away! Something felt wrong! Don't tell me this is not my war, because it bloody well is! Everything that concerns you concerns me, like it or not. And I'm not complaining, Sansa, really I'm not. I can't complain. If anything, I have to fucking grateful that a woman like you feels something for a man like me..." As he said that, he caressed her smooth cheeks softly with his thumbs. He meant every word that he was saying... If they gave him the option of going back to the past and never fall for Sansa, he wouldn't take it. He wouldn't change anything, even if his current situation meant feeling all that pain. Sansa was worth it; she was worth that and a lot more. He didn't deserve her. "It just makes me fucking furious that I can't do anything to spare you some of your pain!"

"There's nothing you can do," Sansa murmured, still holding his hands in hers. Her touch was extremely soothing. "My only hope to get rid of this situation is to wait for my sister. She had a plan, I'm sure she will come soon."

Sandor but his lip, suddenly feeling a great weight dripping on him. He hadn't told Sansa what had happened to her sister, and he wasn't sure of how to break the news to her. It would be cruel to give her false hope, but it would also be cruel to make her suffer and worry for another member of her family. Perhaps a little hope was good for her... However, that wasn't an option. Sansa had learned to read him exceedingly well, and she knew something was wrong just by looking at his eyes.

"What?" she asked. She didn't need to ask anything else, she had made her point clear. Sandor sighed.

"I talked to Jaqen H'ghar, the man that was with your sister... She can't make it here."

Obviously, Sansa understood it the wrong way. Sandor saw the panic beginning to build in her eyes, and he hurried to explain before she would start crying.

"Don't worry, she's fine. She's alive. It's just that there were... complications. They are in India, and they can't come here, they can't fulfill their promise."

"But she's alive?" that was all that mattered to Sansa. She did not care anymore that her sister wasn't going to be able to kill Joffrey and save her, that wasn't important to Sansa when put in the balance with Arya's safety. Her family would always come first for her, and that was something that was amazing and admiring of Sansa. It also worried Sandor. How could he keep her save when she was so willing to sacrifice herself for those she loved?

He nodded. "Yes, she's alive."

"Good," Sansa sighed, relieved. For the first time a small smile appeared in her face just for a very brief moment. "Perhaps it's better this way. I want her as far away from here as possible, this is all too dangerous."

"It's dangerous for you too."

"I will be fine..."

"No, you will not!" Sandor barked, actually making Sansa cringe in front of him. "I can't always keep you safe! Maybe sometimes, but even if I want to, I can't always be there! What will happen tonight, huh?! What will happen tonight when Joffrey carries you to your bed on your wedding night?! What happens when he... When he..."

He couldn't focus, he was losing it. The mere thought of Joffrey putting his filthy hands on Sansa, hands dirty with her father's blood, hands that had hurt her and degraded her thousands of times... It was too much. Sandor had never felt so weak, so hopeless...

Such was his state that Sansa had to let go of his hands to hold his face between her and force him to look at her again, and focus on her eyes and away from those awful visions that were developing in front of him.

"Sandor, look at me, it's okay. Joffrey is not going to touch me."

"What...?"

"He won't touch me. I managed to have a civilized conversation with him yesterday. We came to an agreement. He won't touch me until our honeymoon, and that won't be until after the elections in July. Hopefully by then I will have been able to get out of here."

"You can't be serious. Joffrey wouldn't agree to that!"

"But he did. We bargained and we came to an agreement."

"What did you give him?"

"Joffrey is a very greedy person, so I offered him a very large sum of money... His family is very rich, but the fortune that I offered him- _my_ fortune- was a sweet and delicious cake in his eyes, he couldn't say no. He took it, but he won't have all of it unless he fulfills his promise. What he really wanted was my inheritance, really. My part of the lands and business that the Starks have in the North would have gotten me a lot more of time without having to be with him, but I couldn't give that to him. I wasn't going to sell part of my family's legacy just to get more time before the inevitable happens."

It wasn't much, but knowing that Joffrey wouldn't up a finger on Sansa for a least three more months have him more relief than he had felt in weeks. He would have to worry about that in the future, but for now he could cross it off his list of nightmares.

Sansa saw his relief, but she seemed more distressed than before. Sandor wondered what was wrong now, but before he had the chance to ask, Sansa dropped her arms to her sides and spoke.

"This isn't fair... It's not fair for you," she repeated, saying what she had said earlier. "You shouldn't have to put up with all this, you don't deserve it! You deserve to be with a better woman, one that is free to love you. One that you don't have to share with anyone else, and that doesn't make you go through all this... Murder conspiracies against your boss and secrets and danger and pain... You deserve so much better, I can't keep doing this to you!"

"Sansa, what the fuck are you saying?"

"You know I love you," she whispered, cupping his face again between her hands, and she smiled a little bit. "And I know you love me. Which is why I have to let you go..."

"What?"

"You are risking everything for me. If they catch you you are dead, and you know it. I wouldn't stand it. This has to stop."

"You can't do this."

"I don't want to! But I won't watch you get hurt, I love you to much! I have to let you go before something terrible happens and I-"

She didn't finish talking, because Sandor shut her up before she had the chance to. He silenced her in the only way tat he knew and that he wanted to use. He leaned in and he kissed her full in the mouth. It wasn't a soft kiss, it wasn't a chaste kiss, it wasn't delicate. It was a desperate kiss. He pressed his mouth against hers and put one hand in her nape and another one in her back, and he pressed her against him as much as he could without hurting her. Sansa gasped with surprise, and she tried to push him away for a very brief moment before giving up. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Sandor's mouth was hard and rough against her own, and he pressed his tongue against her lips to open them. Sansa parted her mouth and Sandor immediately joined their tongues, starting a wild and passionate dance inside both their mouth, releasing all of his passion and desperation and all of his need for her in that kiss.

Sandor took a step forward and gently pushed Sansa against the sinks. She gasped in his mouth and he scooped her up and sat her on the marble sinks. The skirt of Sansa's dress wasn't wide enough to let her part her legs, so Sandor lifted the skirt with his hands so that he was able to stand between them and get closer to Sansa while they kissed, but he was very careful not to tear the delicate fabric. He place his left hand on Sansa's narrow waist, and the other one on her leg. She had stockings, but that didn't stop him from feeling the warm softness of her skin. He caressed her leg and squeezed her waist with his other hand, and Sansa squealed softly. She smiled against his mouth briefly before she continued kissing him back. She tangled her fingers in his hairs and pulled him as close to her as she could and kissed him even more feverishly than he had kissed her at the beginning; their need for each other was so immense that it felt like they needed each other to breathe.

"We shouldn't..." Sansa said, panting, during a very brief moment in which they stopped for some air. "If anyone sees us..."

"They won't," Sandor said, pressing his mouth against hers again. Their tongues resumed their wet and sexual dance and their lips violently caressed each other again, and Sansa moaned. She pressed her upper body more against Sandor's body, becoming as close to him as humanly possible, and he surrounded her slim body with his strong arm and pressed his hand against her back, feeling the lace of her dress under her palm.

"But they could hear us..."

"Fuck them all," Sandor grunted, and he buried his face in Sansa's neck and nipped at the soft skin there. Sansa moaned and shuddered, and she made pleasurable noises in the back of her throat. She threw her head back, exposing her neck more to Sandor, and he kissed her there being careful not to leave a mark that others could see.

He wanted to take her there and then, make her his and become hers. His need for her in that moment was killing him, and his manhood ached and twitched inside his pants but he knew that he couldn't do that. As much as he wanted to fuck his little bird to remind her that she was his and he was hers and that she wasn't alone and that day wasn't the end of the world, doing so in that place would be a big imprudence. The risk of being discovered would increase a great deal, and hiding what they had done would be more difficult.

Getting caught there would be the scandal of the century. He could already imagine the headlines: Governor's New Wife Has Affair With Bodyguard During Wedding Reception. It was tempting, but also it would end up with their heads on pikes. Literally.

His desire burned him inside, and it was difficult to restrain, but he managed to do it for both their sakes. He moved his lower body slightly away from Sansa's; the young woman protested briefly when she felt him moving a bit away from her. His own mind and body protested too. Being away from Sansa made him physically uncomfortable, but it was for the best. However, he was not going to stop kissing her for the moment.

There came a moment when they both knew they had to stop. They had been there for far too long, and people would start wondering what had happened with the bride that had disappeared from her own wedding reception. Even though it physically hurt to part from one another, eventually they did it. They were panting, wanting for air but also wanting to satiate their need for each other that didn't seem to cease. It was like being thirsty in an endless desert. They weren't kissing anymore, but their faces were merely a few inches away from each other. Sandor looked down at Sansa, who had her eyes closed; she was getting lost in the feeling of having him near her. She could feel his closeness, his warm breath falling on her face, she heard him panting, and when she put her hand on his chest she felt his burning skin beneath his clothes, and his rapidly-beating heart that felt like home.

"We should go," Sandor murmured. He wished he didn't have to say those words.

Sansa nodded softly, and then she opened her eyes. They weren't red or swollen anymore, and after she gazed at him for a couple of silent seconds she have him a short and soft kiss. A good bye kiss. That kiss hurt like a goddamn bullet.

Sandor out his hands around her waist and helped her on her feet. She fixed her dress with her hands, and without saying a single word more she walked past him and made her way to the door. Before she could reach it and unlock it to leave Sandor spoke. He couldn't let her go just like that.

"You look... absolutely beautiful," he said, finally confessing what he had been thinking since hours ago. When he had first seen Sansa in her wedding dress his mind had simply exploded. She was stunning, and even though that was not the wedding she had wanted to have, at least he wanted to let her know what he thought of her. She deserved to know that she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, she deserved something nice for a change.

A small smiled curled up the corner of Sansa's mouth.

"Thank you," she said. "I didn't want to wear this dress, I wanted a dress that wasn't white, but they didn't allow me to do that."

"Why?" he asked. He thought that all brides wanted to wear white in their wedding, no matter what. "Why didn't you want to wear white?"

"I would have wanted to wear it for you," she confessed, leaving him completely and utterly stunned.

He didn't say anything, and Sansa left. She checked both sides of the hallway twice before stepping out of the restroom, and the door closed behind her as she walked away.

Her answer had really left him completely stunned and petrified. He had wished while he watched Sansa walking down the aisle that she could have been doing it to meet him at the altar, and not another man. He had wished it more than he had wished anything in a long time, and he had known that it was impossible, a stupid fantasy that only a naive boy with no knowledge of how that cruel world worked would have. It was a dream that could never come true... And at that moment Sansa had admitted in her own way that she had wished the same.

For the thousandth time he wondered what in Earth he could have possibly done to deserve Sansa. She was the biggest and best gift that could have ever been bestowed to him. But at the same time that she was a gift, she was his worst curse.

* * *

 

Sandor returned to the ballroom five minutes after Sansa had left the restroom and left him there alone, and he found everything exactly how he had left it more or less. The party was still going on and people were seating down on the tables to feast and celebrate. Sansa had joined her husband at their table, where both their families were also with them. Sandor went to stand nearby but maintained a low profile and acted just as a bodyguard: he stood there without interfering, without talking, just observing. He had to do his job and he had to forget what had happened mere minutes ago between him and Sansa.

A long time passed before people finished eating, but then came the time for the cake. They brought it inside the ballroom from outside: it was a four level cake, all white and beautifully decorated in a very classic and elegant way, just like everything else there. It actually matched Sansa's dress, and she smiled when she saw it. Although it didn't look like it from the outside, inside the cake was a giant lemon cake, her favorite. The cake was actually something that she could enjoy from that wedding.

Sansa and Joffrey cut it in the traditional way, together, and everyone applauded. Everyone got a piece served and Sandor grinned when he saw Sansa, always the perfect little lady, stuffing cake into her mouth. It seemed to give her some relief. Joffrey was also eating the cake joyously, and Sandor caught himself wishing that he would choke on the cake and die there in front of everyone. He fantasized that the blond prick's face became swollen and turned of an ugly purple color, and he gagged and choked and coughed and tore at his throat and eventually his lifeless body would lie there on the dance floor. That would be a sweet, sweet thing to see. Joffrey was prone to chocking on his food. Sandor remembered multiple times when Joffrey was a lad and he had choked on all kinds of stuff, and Sandor had always had to pay him really strong on the back so that he would spit it out. If he ever choked on the pie he would definitely not pay him in the back this time...

Or someone could stab him with the cake knife, he thought, grinning. Now, that would be a sight to see...

When he heard Joffrey coughing, he thought for a second that the gods were real and were making his fantasies become real. Joffrey's face was red, and he coughed really badly because of the cake that he had been waiting eagerly.

_Are you fucking serious?_

But he wasn't that lucky. Sandor's fantasies were shattered when Jaime Lannister patted his nephew in the back, and Joffrey stopped coughing and was back to normality. Sandor grimaced, and he was forced to suffer through the rest of the party, which carried on normally and without any incidents.

The sun started setting in the horizon, dyeing the sky of beautiful red, orange, pink, and purple tones. The guests that had been dancing on the dance floor of the ballroom after the feast finished and everyone ate their share of cake dispersed and cleared the ballroom. The lights dimmed, the music became slow and romantic, and Joffrey led Sansa to the dance floor. Everyone applauded as Joffrey took his wife's hand and put his other hand on her waist and then led her through their first dance as husband and wife. Sansa's face was very red. From afar it looked like she had blushed like a proper and shy happy woman that was enjoying the dance, but Sandor saw the rage in her eyes. Every day that passed made that rage more and more obvious to him, perhaps because every day he knew Sansa a bit better than the day before and he was learning how to read her every thought and emotion. Sansa was disgusted by the fact that she had to slow dance with Joffrey in front of everyone and pretend to be happy about it. She hated that farse, and she hated Joffrey most of all.

Sandor was getting sick just by looking at the two of them like that. Joffrey's hand on Sansa's waist made him gag, and his blood started to boil. The vein in the side of his neck and the vein in his temple pulsed violently and menacingly: that was the sign that there was a beast that was appearing inside of him, getting ready to attack, and he was fighting with all he could to keep it caged.

While everyone was focused on the couple dancing, Sandor saw on the corner of his eye that someone was approaching him. He didn't need to turn his head to know that it was Tyrion Lannister. The little man stood next to him and pretended to be looking at his nephew dancing with his new wife, but he spoke to Sandor lowly enough so that only the bodyguard could hear him.

"It finally happened... What do you think of all this, Clegane?"

"What is there to think?"

"Well, Joffrey just got married. You must have some thoughts about it, right?"

"He got married. Good for him," Sandor said, shrugging, and trying not to get annoyed by Tyrion.

Tyron chuckled and smirked. His expression became mocking and sarcastic. Sandor knew that expression, he had seen it multiple times on the man. He might not like the man, but Tyrion had a way of viewing the world in a very similar way to the way in which he viewed it, only maybe a little bit more positive. Tyrion's expression meant that he didn't like that wedding, and that he knew that Sandor wasn't saying the truth of what he really thought about the wedding.

"Come on, Clegane..." Tyrion said. "You have known Joffrey for almost as long as he has lived, just like me. I know you think the same thing that I do about this whole wedding. Knowing Joffrey so well as you and I do, it would be impossible not to think the same thing!"

"And what is that?" Sandor asked between gritted teeth, unable to hide his annoyance any longer.

Tyrian didn't reaping right away. He kept gazing at his nephew and Sansa dancing below the dimmed lights, and his smirk disappeared and was replaced by lines in his forehead, lines of worry. He was immersed deeply in his thoughts, and then he shook his head slowly from side to side. He sighed and shared those thoughts with Sandor. His gazed was fixed only on Sansa now.

"Poor, _poor_ , **_poor_ ** girl..."


	26. Just Keep Swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I wrote this chapter on the plane while I was getting bored over the Atlantic and I was kind of drunk. The man seating next to me read a bit of what I was writing and called me "cute little psychopath." I'll take that as a compliment!
> 
> This is not a very pleasant chapter. Proceed with caution towards the end.
> 
> And yeah, the politics in this fic are a bit weird. Whatever. It's Westeros, a made up country! So it can have non-accurate politics that make it possible for me to write what I want to write! Really, what I'm doing is getting inspiration by mixing things that are done differently in different countries. In this fic, the President can choose whomever he wants as Vice President, even if the Vice President is from a different party.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Joffrey sat in his black leather chair behind his desk in his office, with a cup of wine in hand and lost in his own thoughts. He was looking down at a piece of paper where the speech for his next debate was written; it was a very good speech, he had the best writers and politicians working for him in his campaign, and he wanted to memorize it well before the day of the debate arrived. He liked to be well prepared, and he despised those politicians who only looked away from the paper once or twice because they had no idea of what they were saying. Learning all that was tedious and irritated him, but he didn't have anything else to do anyways. In normal circumstances he would be away in his honeymoon, but the proximity of the elections didn't allow him to do such a thing. He couldn't leave the campaign unattended at that moment, he had to stay in the country. It had been two weeks since his wedding to Sansa happened, but life hadn't changed much for him since then. He was getting bored actually. He hadn't been together with Sansa as husband and wife yet because of the deal that she had made with him and that he had agreed to. It was obvious to him that Sansa wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, even though they now shared a room and a bed. Joffrey couldn't deny that he desired her; his wife was an extremely beautiful woman, and he was a lusty man and wanted her all for himself. It was his right after all, but he had agreed to wait. He had already made her miserable enough by forcing her to marry him, and her misery have him enough satisfaction for the moment. Agreeing to not touching her in those months would give her hope, and he would love to take that away from her as soon as the time she had bought was over. Joffrey was going to enjoy it... He wasn't going to hold back. He had many things to look forward to in those months, but right now the one that really occupied his mind was the elections.

He wanted to be President. He wanted it so bad... Based in the reports he was getting from progress of the campaign, he was doing a very good job. He was confident that he would end up being elected President, and that made him feel good. He knew that, had his uncle still been alive, Renly would have won the elections. That was as clear as water, there was no doubt about it. People loved Renly. Joffrey didn't understand how that could be so. He had never liked his uncle, and he had always been disgusted by his... depravity. Joffrey had liked Renly's plan, though, of making him Vice President to later give him the opportunity of becoming President. But now, with Renly dead, that opportunity was gone. Joffrey was thankful that his uncle's party hadn't presented another candidate, though. The elections had already been too advanced when Renly died, and presenting a new candidate would be pointless.

Joffrey still didn't know who had tried to kill him and failed, killing his uncle instead. He often wondered who had dared to try such a thing and had been able to escape, and he hated to admit that he was afraid that an attempt against his life would happen again. Everything had been okay up until that point, though, so he hoped he was safe.

With Renly out of the way, the only opponent that he had left was Robb Stark. The other opponents from other political parties had been defeated very early in the campaign. Until Robb decided to run for President, Joffrey had been completely sure that he would be the winner... but Robb Stark, damn him, was a very strong opponent. Joffrey feared that because of that idiot, who was just as big an honorable fool as his father had been, was going to defeat him and turn all his ambitions to ashes. Joffrey tried to think positive. Robb Stark was a very strong opponent, but he was indeed a fool, and he wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the Lannisters, whom Joffrey had backing him. However, one could never be extra prudent. Joffrey was going to do whatever was necessary to reach his goals, and he had learned through experience that deals were a good strategy.

He wanted to make a deal with Robb Stark, a deal similar to the one that Renly had made to him. But there was a flaw in his plan, and that flaw had a name: Theon Greyjoy.

He didn't hear the door of his office opening and footsteps coming closer, he was too distracted and immersed in his own thoughts. Only when he heard someone clearing his throat did he finally notice that he wasn't alone anymore. He raised his gaze from the paper on which his speech was written and he found his grandfather standing there.

"Grandfather," he said, and Tywin Lannister say down on one of the black leather armchairs that were placed in front of his grandson's desk. "What are you doing here?"

"I had a meeting with some members of our party and the President," he said. Tywin often had to travel to the capital for meetings, and the current President, Doran Martell (who had been President Robert Baratheon's Secretary of State and ascended to Presidency after the deaths of both him and Vice President Stark,) who was also a moment of that same party, attended all those meetings. "Nothing important. I came because your mother told me that you were being very busy with the campaign lately. Is everything going well?"

Tywin Lannister never cared for the personal well-being of the members of his family. He just cared about the family name and its reputation, and the only thing that worried him was whether if his grandson was going to be the president and bring pride to the family, or lose and bring shame. Joffrey knew it. He didn't particularly like his grandfather very much. He didn't like any member of his family (on both sides) very much, truth be told. But he did have to admit that his grandfather was a smart and wise man with a lot of both political and military experience, and his advice and help were always welcome. Well, almost always.

"Everything is going fine," Joffrey nodded, and he pointed the written speech with his hand. "I was getting ready for the upcoming debate, actually."

"I've been told that Robb Stark has very interesting things to say in that debate. Be careful."

"I will crush him," Joffrey assured his grandfather, who nodded his approval.

"Good. Now tell me, how is the marriage to the Stark girl going?"

"It's going as well as can be expected," Joffrey said, unable to keep the sarcasm in his voice at bay. Tywin remained unamused, his expression blank.

"You have to get that girl pregnant. You need people to see that you two have a good relationship, and you have to give them the image of a perfect family."

" _A good relationship?_ " Joffrey repeated, raising his eyebrows, amused by how ridiculous that sounded. Tywin glared at him.

"People aren't supposed to know that you forced her to marry you and that she hates you. She's doing a brilliant job pretending to be the perfect wife in front of the cameras, and it is your turn to perform."

"Listen, grandfather, I don't want you telling me when I'm supposed to fuck my wife."

"I wouldn't have to tell you of you did it," Tywin muttered, but he decided to put tat topic aside for the time being. He knew that Joffrey wouldn't listen to him, and besides, something else had caught his attention. Joffrey's gaze was lost in the void, while his mind was again lost in his own thoughts, and Tywin frowned when he saw that. He had seen that expression few times on his grandson's face, but all those few times had something in common: Joffrey had done something bad. Not something bad that was tormenting his mind, but something that was actually making him think really hard about it. Or maybe he hadn't done it yet, and he was plan in on doing it.

"I know that face," he said.

"What face?" Joffrey asked.

" _That_ face," Tywin answered, looking at him. He saw the small grin appearing on Joffrey's face when the young man realized that he had been discovered and he frowned even more. He just hoped that whatever Joffrey had done that time wasn't something stupid, like that whole affair with Ned Stark. Joffrey had had the exact same expression on him when he told Tywin about the murder of the Vice President. "What have you done?"

"Nothing. Not yet..."

"Should I be worried?"

"You are always worried," Joffrey retorted, and Tywin scoffed. "No, you shouldn't be worried."

"May I ask what it is about?"

"You may. I'm going to offer the same deal to Robb Stark that uncle Renly offered me months ago."

"Are you out of your mind?" Tywin immediately asked. Joffrey had known that his grandfather would react like that, and it made him smile a little bit. Anyone would think the same thing, that he was crazy. He, however, thought it was the best idea he could have had.

"It assures my victory," he said, shrugging, trying to act as calmly as possible. "If my luck is bad and that idiot Stark manages to defeat me in the campaign, I will still be in power. I will be Vice President. He will agree for the same reasons, I will choose him if I win. I don't really want to do it, but it's the only option I've got of I want him to agree."

"This is madness," Tywin muttered. "He won't want you as Vice President any more than you want him."

"Stark is an idiot, and he's honorable, and he's driven by family. I'm his family now," Joffrey said with a mocking smile while the tapped the surface of his mahogany desk repeatedly with a pen. He thought it was strange, finally being related to the Starks. He made everything and everyone so much easier to manipulate... "I'm his brother-in-law, and he's dumb enough to actually believe that his sister and I love each other. All I have to do is tell Sansa to give her brother a little push, and he will do anything she asks. He is predictable."

"Robb Stark is smarter than that. His father, on the other hand, would have agreed. He agreed to be your father's Vice President just because his family talked him into it."

"Robb Stark is smarter than his father, but not that much... And the possibility to have power as Vice President will seduce him more than the possibility of being left with nothing. I want to be Vice President to somehow crawl my way up to Presidency. He will do the same."

"Even if you are right, what you want is impossible. Robb Stark already has chosen who will be his Vice President, and nothing will change his mind. Theon Greyjoy is his most trusted friend, they are practically brothers. They have been together since childhood, and Stark won't cast him aside for you. He doesn't even like you."

"Which is why Theon is the enemy..." Joffrey murmured. He kept tapping the surface of the desk with the pen, only that he was doing it slowly now, at a steady tempo that was similar to the slow beating of a weak heart. Joffrey stared at the point on the desk's surface where the pen kept hitting the wood, and a grin spread yet again over his face and twisted his features in a cold, sadistic way. "You always told me that we had to get rid of our enemies..."

"So that is it, then?" Tywim asked, finally realizing what had been hiding behind Joffrey's expression when he first entered the office. Joffrey meant to really offer that deal to Robb, and he wanted Robb to accept it. He needed Theon Greyjoy out of the way for that, and Joffrey had a very permanent way of dealing with people that bothered him. Tywin had seen that with Ned Stark. Stark's murder had been a mistake, a terrible mistake, but Joffrey had handled it well and they had nothing to worry about anymore. But now Joffrey meant to do something similar again, and Tywin felt worried. What Joffrey planned was highly dangerous, and they were risking being caught by the police and facing severe consequences.

"What have you done?" Tywin asked.

"You know what I have done," Joffrey replied.

"Has it already happened?"

Joffrey shook his head slowly from side to side, and Tywin sighed and looked away from his grandson, setting his gaze on the wall while he tried to think. He was doing so when Joffrey spoke again:

"They are waiting for my phone call. It will be done as soon as they get my approval."

"Why haven't you given it yet?" Tywin asked, wondering what was stopping his grandson from going on with his plans. Joffrey never lingered in doing something when he decided to do it, but it seemed as if the young Governor was waiting for some kind of approval. "Is there any chance that they might link you to... whatever it is that you are going to do this time?"

Joffrey shook his head. It was impossible that he would be linked to what he planned to do, they would be no way of doing so. Tywin sighed, thinking. He had never given a damn about people using dirty tricks to win and get what they wanted. He had done it many times, he had taught his children to do it, and he had seen many people doing it... A little bit of spilled blood... It was nothing to him. He couldn't care less. It was the reputation of them all what worried him in case Joffrey's name did reach the surface after some scandal like that. He was worried about the consequences that everything would have for them, he didn't really care if a life or several had been lost.

"Can the people that are waiting for the call be trusted?"

"Yes."

"And Theon Greyjoy will be gone forever?"

"He will."

"I do hope it's more discreet than the whole affair with Ned Stark was."

"It will not be discreet," Joffrey warned Tywin, but before the Governor of the Weaternlands could get alarmed by imagining something out of proportion, he explained more. "But it won't be the same, I promise."

"You are going to do it anyways," Tywin said. "You might as well go on with your plan... Whatever it is. Get rid of Theon Greyjoy."

"I won't be getting rid of him," Joffrey murmured, grinning diabolically. "Greyjoy is an islander... He likes to go for a swim at the beach early in the morning whenever he can. He finds a solitary quiet little beach where no one will bother him, and then he jumps into the water, everyone knows it."

After saying that, Joffrey let his own fall. He looked at it in silence for a couple of seconds before lifting his green gaze to look at his grandfather, who was waiting for him to keep talking, listening patiently to everything. He suddenly demonstrated to have much more interest in his grandson's crazy idea, and he thought that maybe it was as crazy as he had originally thought. Tywin hadn't still heard the rest of Joffrey's plan for Theon Greyjoy, but he knew that his grandson had a sick mind with cruel ideas, and he knew that Greyjoy's fate was going to be equally dark and cruel. Based on that, and the information that Joffrey as providing, Tywin could guess what Joffrey was planning.

"The Greyjoys identify with the kraken, the mythical sea monster..." Joffrey said slowly, and then he chuckled, like a little boy that had just been told that he was given permission to torture all the bugs that he wanted. For him, Theon was the bug, and he was going to pluck each and every one of its wings and he was going to watch it get destroyed and he was going to enjoy it. "I'm just sending him to meet a different kind of monster."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had been normal that day. The sky was a little gray, but that was usual in the Iron Islands even though they were in the Northern hemisphere, and it was late Spring there. The weather wasn't kind in those islands, and that was usually reflected in the ill-temper of the islanders. Theon had returned to the Iron Islands to visit his family for a few days before he had to travel to the capital again. He was tired of having to travel to that place, but that was what happened when you were trying to be Vice President... The last time he had been there he had enjoyed it, though. It had been for Sansa's wedding, and even though he despised the prick that she had married, she was like a sister to him and he wanted her to be happy. The good thing about going back to the capital would be that he could see her again.

He had gone to the beach for his usual morning swim. He drive to his favorite beach, a rocky and solitary one away from the city, Pyke. That beach was a place where he could be alone and not worry about anything or anyone, and he loved to clear his mind in the cold salty water of the sea. When he arrived he parked his car, left his wallet, keys and phone inside, and he took his clothes off, leaving himself with only a pair of dark bathing trunks before walking towards the water.

Up until that moment, everything had been normal... Then someone had approached him from behind, someone that he hadn't seen coming, and that someone hit him hard in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. He had regained consciousness a few moments later, but his vision was blurry and his head felt heavy; he was very dizzy. He wasn't in the beach anymore. The bumpy movement and the splashes of water that hit him in the face and the strong wind made him realize that he was on a boat.

 _What the fuck am I doing here?_ he exclaimed in his mind, but he didn't ask out loud.

He heard make voices that belonged to the people that were taking him away from the beach. He couldn't focus on what they were saying because his head still hurt and he felt very confused. He groaned and put his hand on the back of his head, and he felt his hair damp and warm and sticky there. When he looked at him hand he discovered that his palm was bloody.

"What are you doing...?" he managed to ask, turning his head to look around the small boat. There were three men there, but he didn't recognize any of them. They heard him, but they ignored him.

When they were far away from the shore but still within swimming distance of it, one of the men (who was very tall and thin, and had a face similar to that of a rat's and a huge nose,) ordered the other men to stop the boat there, and so they did.

"What are you doing?!" Theon asked again, louder than before. Again he was ignored, but the rat-like man talked to the other two.

"Hold him," he said, gesturing towards Theon with a movement of his head, and the two men went to grab him.

He tried to resist, but he was outnumbered and he was still dizzy from the hit he had received on the back of the head. He shouted for help, but no one would hear him from there. The two men grabbed him so that he couldn't move, and the rat-like man approached him with a knife. Theon panicked when he saw the blade and he tried to get away, but he couldn't.

"Don't you know who I am?!" he shouted desperately. "I am Theon Greyjoy! _I am-!_ "

"We know very well who you are," the man grunted, sounding bored. He wanted to get all that over with quickly so that he could get out of there as fast as possible. "This is nothing personal."

Right after saying that, the man made four quick movement of his arm and the knife sliced four long and deep gashes on Theon's limbs. The gashes immediately started spilling blood, and Theon howled in pain. The rat-like man picked up a cloth and put it over the wound in one of Theon's thighs. The cloth immediately became soaked in red blood, and then the man took the cloth away and squeezed it over the water of the sea, letting the blood fall to the water and dye it red. He repeated the process several times, until several feet of water at the side of the boat were completely red. Theon sobbed, still in pain, and watched the man taking his blood and dropping it to the water without understanding what all that was about.

 _These men are crazy,_ hethought. It was the only logical explanation. Why else would they take him there, so far away from the beach, only to cut him and throw his blood to the sea?

The man's hands were completely soaked with Theon's blood, but he didn't seem to mind. Truth be told, he looked like the kind of man whose hands had been dripping blood several times. His dark eyes were expressionless, they were the kind of eyes of a man who did not care anymore about anything and just did things that needed to be done. His expression was blank, and at the same time it was dark and scared Theon. He wanted to get out of there.

"Please..." he begged.

The rat-like man stopped soaking the cloth with Theon's blood, but the wounds were still bleeding. There was a large pool of blood on the bottom of the boat, but none of the men seemed to mind. The rat-like man noticed the red pool and washed the blood with the bloody cloth, and then he squeezed it again over the water, letting the blood fall on the already dark red water. Then he waited.

"Please..." Theon begged again. He felt weak, and his vision was blurrier than before. "What do you want...?"

"As I said, it's nothing personal," the man said. There was no emotion on his voice. He simply did not care. "We are getting good money for this. We didn't choose the method, _he_ did. Blame him of you want."

"Him...?" Theon mumbled, still not understanding.

Before he could get an answer, something hit the bottom of the boat, making it move violently all of a sudden. The other men held on to the boat to not fall to the water, and Theon gasped.

"What was that?!"

"It's time," the rat-like man said then. He was looking at so etching that was in the water, but Theon could not see of from where he was sitting. "Drop him," he commanded the two men that were holding Theon.

"What? _No! **No!**_ " he shouted, but it was of no use. The men lifted him to his feet and pushed him.

He fell head first into the cold water. The contact of his open wounds with the cold, salty water made him cry out in pain, and water got inside his mouth. He could taste his own blood in the water that he accidentally swallowed.

"Wait!" he yelled when he saw that the men were leaving on the boat, leaving him behind and alone there, so far away from the beach. "You can't leave me here! Please!"

"If you want to save yourself, Theon Greyjoy, just keep swimming!" the rat-like man shouted to him from the distance, and he could hear the other two laughing. The boat disappeared going to the East, in direction of the mainland, and Theon watched as they disappeared in the horizon until he couldn't see them anymore. He was left there alone, in pain, floating in his own blood.

 _Just keep swimming_ , he repeated in his mind the words that the man had told him. _Just keep swimming..._

He looked towards the beach on the distance. It was far away, but in normal circumstances he would have no problem at all to swim all the way towards there. He had probably swam that distance many times before, but at that moment he couldn't. He was too weak, too hurt. The water wasn't helping with his wounds. He felt dizzier and dizzier as time passed, and the pain in his limbs was being replaced by numbness.

 _No, I have to swim,_ he thought to himself. _Just keep swimming..._

"Just keep swimming," he said between gritted teeth as he forced himself to move his arms and kick his legs on the water so that he would move forwards and stay afloat at the same time. He almost screamed, but he bit his tongue to stop himself from doing so. He clenched his jaw when the cold temperature of the water made him shiver. "Just keep swimming..."

It was easier said than done. He had always been an excellent swimmer, but the deep gashes in his arms and legs made it extremely painful to move, and the cold and salt water wasn't helping the least bit. He was also afraid that the wound in his head, which was still bleeding, would make him pass out and drown. Even without the wound on the head his situation would be pretty messed up. He was losing a lot of blood from everywhere in his body, and he didn't know if he would make it to the beach in time. Even if he did what was he going to do? There wasn't anyone anywhere around to help him, he was alone. That was what he used to love most about that beach; it was the most solitary beach in the entire island. Now he hated it for it with all his soul! He couldn't walk to the city, it was too far for him. He was going to die.

 _Don't think about that!_ he scolded himself. _It's just a little more, I can do it._

The sound of a splash in the water behind him made him freeze. He turned around in the water and became still while he kept floating on the water as he searched for the source of that sound, but e saw nothing other than the red trail that his blood had left on the water behind him.

 _It was nothing,_ he tried to convince himself. _Just keep swimming. And don't stop._

He resumed swimming towards the beach. It was a bit closer now. Everything was silent for a few seconds. He felt weak, he felt desperate, he felt cold, and he felt afraid. Specially afraid. Then he heard the splash again, right behind him. He looked again and he saw nothing, but he was becoming very afraid. Very, very, very afraid... He was still very far from the beach, and all that blood...

 _Don't think about it!_ he commanded himself as he swam with all his strength. _Just keep swimming. Swim. **Swim!**_

And swim he did...

...Until he saw it.

His eyes became wide as plates, filled with the worst and most extreme horror he had ever felt in his entire life as he saw the silver fin breaking into the surface of the sea. It swam around him, surrounding him like the predators did to their prey... Theon was its prey. And it was so close...

 _No, please, no..._ he begged, and he whimpered, terrified, when he realized the terrible danger he was in. He couldn't escape from them, not in his condition...

_**Sharks.** _

He felt the cold and smooth feeling of something swimming next to him and grazing his leg underwater, something big. He could not see it because of the dark blood that mixed with the water, but he did feel it, and he sobbed loudly. The creature swam away from him, and Theon started swimming as fast and as hard as he could. He forgot about the wound in his head and the gashes in his limbs, and he forgot also about the blood around him and about how worried he was about not finding any help when he got to the beach. He didn't care about that, he just wanted to get out of the water immediately. He forgot about the extreme cold that seemed to bury itself deep in his bones, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered to him was getting out of there, away from those sharks that had been summoned there by the scent of his blood that dyed the oven red. Now it all made sense.

" _If you want to live, Theon Greyjoy, just keep swimming_ ," he heard the voice of the man that had cut him and thrown him to the water say in his head. _"It's nothing personal..."_

Theon tried to swim. He didn't want to die. Not there, not like that.

 _"Help!_ " he yelled at the too of his lungs, taking strength from he didn't know where. " _ **Help!**_ "

He looked at the beach and he though he saw something arriving there and running to the shore. He wasn't sure. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe not. Maybe there was hope after all, maybe he could be saved...

" _ **HELP!**_ " he yelled again, louder that time. His voice almost broke because of the fear and the exhaustion that he was feeling. It was too much...

He saw the fin of one of the sharks appearing in the surface again a few feet away in front of him. The shark started stemming slowly towards him, and Theon wanted to turn around and get as far away from the creature as possible, but if he did that he would be returning to the ocean. He would be lost then. Besides, there was another shark wandering around there. Where was the second shark...?

He felt it then. Sharp fangs buried themselves into the flesh of his wounded leg, tearing his flesh, dragging him down. The last thing Theon did was scream before he disappeared underwater, as did the fin of the shark that had been stalking him.

The water turned an even deeper red.


	27. The Deal.

The morning of the funeral had been a rainy one. The skies were grey and the clouds were gigantic black masses, pouring water over those who had attended the funeral. They all stood there, holding umbrellas as black as the clouds over them to try to stop the rain from soaking them while they watched the coffin be descended six feet underground. The rain fell of the hard wood of the coffin and rebounded, and it filled the whole and made the earth wet and muddy. They would have waited another day to bury the coffin, but the rain hadn't been mentioned in the weather forecast. It had appeared all of a sudden, just as if the sky was weeping over that death.

It was the second funeral that Sansa attended in the last five months. Theon's funeral affected and hurt her a thousands times more than Renly's funeral, but she didn't cry. She had cried too much already over everything, she had cried do much that she felt dry inside of her. There were no more tears to shed because she had used then all up. She wanted to cry, because watching the coffin disappear down into the earth hurt like a knife to the heart. It didn't hurt so much as watching her father being buried, though. She had felt like she was dying during that funeral, and she hoped she didn't have to go through anything similar to that experience ever again.

There wasn't a body inside the coffin. Only bits and pieces of Theon had been found floating on the ocean, and some of them had washed ashore and discover by some people that passed by. It was like a macabre gore scene from a horror movie, and each time that Sansa closed her eyes and pictured it in her mind, she felt sick to her stomach. Theon' remains had been cremated after we has identified by the forensics; burying bloodied random pieces seemed too gore and distasteful to everyone. Most people from the Iron Islands had they ashes thrown to the sea after they died, but Theon's family didn't want to do that with him. The sea had killed Theon, and they preferred him to keep him buried in the ground, safe and away from all harm.

Theon's sister, Asha, was the only member from the Greyjoy family that attended the funeral. Their mother was too delicate and wouldn't be able to stand being there burying her child, and their father had buried too many sons. Sansa watched Asha during the funeral; the woman had a serene expression on her face the entire time, though her sadness and pain for the loss of her little brother was obvious in her eyes. She didn't cry. She didn't shed a single tear during the entire funeral, and Sansa admired her enormous strength. She knew that Asha loved her brother and she would have done anything to protect him, but she hadn't been able to protect him in the end. No one could have done anything... But Asha was not going to let that break her.

Robb was devastated. Sansa felt bad for him. Theon was Robb's best friend since childhood, and Robb had loved him like a brother. Jon was also hurt with Theon's loss, but his pain was nowhere near as bad as Robb's. The last time that Robb had cried was in their father's funeral, and that was probably the only time that Sansa had seen him crying like that. Robb was a very strong man, but he didn't handle loss well. Sansa longed to hug her brother and tell him that everything would be alright, but it was a lie. Theon was dead, and Sansa couldn't even comfort her brother because she couldn't be there for him, she would have to leave soon.

The coffin was already at the bottom of the hole, and Asha took a shovel and threw wet earth on it. Then she have it to Robb, who then gave it to Jon. Everybody that had known Theon and were their friends and loved him had their turn to say their last goodbye by throwing a little amount of earth on him. Sansa's turn came. She stepped away from under the black umbrella that had been sheltering her from the rain, and she was immediately soaked. She didn't care. She took the shovel from her brother Bran's hands, and then she picked up from wet dirt with it and positioned herself at the side of the grave hole, careful not to slip and fall inside. She remembered when she had had to do the exact same thing a little over a year ago, at her father's funeral. She had been shaking so much that she nearly dropped the shovel and started screaming there in front of everyone. She had managed to be strong back then, knowing that she had to do that for her family, for her mother and her siblings. She had to be strong for them back then, and now she had to be strong for herself. For some reason, something inside her told her that that would not be the last time that she would have to stand next to a new grave.

Her hand was firm when she dropped the dirt inside the hole. She gave her last goodbye to Theon, the funny and cocky boy that had once been like an older brother to her, that had made her laugh and that had also made her cry and that had played with her and that had always been peaking her as Arya's accomplice.

Sansa gave the shovel to one of Theon's friends and returned to her place next to her husband. Joffrey had come to the funeral because he was supposed to accompany her now that he was also part of the family, and it would be strange if he didn't come. Sansa glared at him, but Joffrey didn't notice. No one noticed it because they didn't know Joffrey, but Sansa did know him, and she recognized the shadow of amusement in his green eyes. Sansa hated him, and she wanted him out of there and away from her, away from her family, away from Theon... She knew her husband well enough to suspect very dark things, things that made her stomach turn.

After the ceremony was done, everyone left. Sansa paid her respects to Asha, who thanked her, and then she said goodbye to her family. She took her time hugging her brother Robb; he needed it, and she couldn't care less that her husband was waiting for her and getting impatient. Only when she felt that it was fine to let go of Robb did she do it. She turned around and followed Joffrey away from the Pyke cemetery and towards the black car that was waiting for them.

Sandor had come with them to Pyke, and he was the one driving. Sansa wanted to run to his arms and bury herself between them. She wanted him to hold her and comfort her. She hated that day, and she hated that her friend was gone. She wanted to feel protected next to Sandor, because truth be told, she felt terrified at that moment.

Sandor drove them in silence towards the city of Pyke. They had to cross it to get to the airport. Everyone else was going to stay in Pyle for a day or two, but Joffrey wanted to return to King's Landing as soon as possible. He was sitting quietly next to Sansa in the car, looking out the window. The silence was tense inside the car. Sansa saw Sandor looking at her through the rear view mirror, and she saw that he felt saw and pity for her. He knew that she was going through a hard time because of Theon's death, and he wanted to comfort her but he couldn't. The corner of Sansa's mouth curled up a little bit with a tiny smile, letting him know that she was okay. She was going to be fine.

They were already driving through the streets of Pyke. There was no one on the streets because of the heavy rain, and it all looked grey and sad. Sansa had never been in the Iron Islands, and in other circumstances she would have liked to look around out the window and see how the city was, but she wasn't feeling like it at that moment.

Suddenly she heard Joffrey chuckle, and she looked at him while frowning. He was still looking distractedly out the window. He was probably thinking about something funny. Sansa felt her blood boiling in his veins, and she ignored Sandor's warning eyes reflected on the rear view mirror that told her to stay quiet. She couldn't stay quiet. She had bitten her tongue to stay quiet long enough.

"I know what you did to Theon," she murmured, but in the heavy silence of the interior of the car her voice sounded strong and clear.

Joffrey looked away from the mirror and turned his attention to her. He frowned, pretending to be confused and to not know what she was talking about. But Sansa knew that he knew very well what she meant. Again, she knew Joffrey too well.

"The sharks didn't find him," she said, this time louder than before. There was wrath in her voice, a wrath that had never been there before. Sansa was a calm and peaceful person, it wasn't in her nature to hate. She was loving, and sweet and careful and pleasing. But she hated Joffrey. She hated him more than she thought it possible to hate anyone or anything. That hate burned her insides, boiled the blood in her veins, and made her feel an anger that she had never ever felt before in her entire life. And she hated that Joffrey made her feel like that.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Joffrey said, still pretending to be confused. It made Sansa almost laugh bitterly. Since when did Joffrey try to pretend around her? He always loved telling her about the horrible things that he had done, that he did, that he could do to her and those she loved in the future.

"You sent him to them," she accused him.

She could see from the corner of her eye that Sandor was getting nervous. He was getting nervous because she wasn't supposed to be talking to Joffrey like that, and much less when there were other people present. Sandor wasn't supposed to be hearing that conversation, Sansa didn't know if Joffrey knew that Sandor knew everything that he had done, but she didn't care at that moment. She saw Joffrey looking at Sandor in the front seat for a moment, like he was trying to see the bodyguard's reaction. Sandor just acted like he had heard nothing, and Joffrey glared at Sansa. She spoke again.

"You killed him," she hissed bitterly, full of anger and also fear. She was more afraid of Joffrey than she had been in the entire past year, because it was the first time that he had done something that horrible since he killed her father. She never forgot the monster that she was married to, but Theon was a terrible reminder.

Joffrey didn't pretend to have no idea of what she was saying anymore. She saw him smirk and heard him chuckle lowly again, amused by the anger in his wife's eyes. It was something new to him, and even though he liked seeing her afraid and submissive, seeing that new side of her was entertaining to him. It just angered Sansa even more.

"So what if I did?" he asked. He wasn't going to pretend anymore, he didn't care that someone else was listening to them. Sandor knew most of his secrets, and he also knew that he had been behind Ned Stark's death, so Joffrey didn't care anymore that his most trusted bodyguard learned about everything else. He was ignorant of the relationship between Sansa and Sandor, and he didn't know that Sandor already knew everything, including that that marriage was a farse.

"You promised you wouldn't harm my family!" Sansa cried. "That was the deal! If I married you, they would be safe!"

"Theon Greyjoy wasn't your family," Joffrey said calmly, and a little bit irritated. "I promised not to harm anyone with the Stark last name. And anyways, I said they would be safe once you became my wife. You might be my wife in a paper, but not really... Not yet."

Sandor almost slammed his foot on the brakes and he almost turned around to put his hands around Joffrey's neck and strangle him to death. How did he dare...? How did he dare tell the little bird that he might still harm her family unless she slept with him?! Sansa had endured many horrible things because of that little shit, but she definitely did not deserve to be under such pressure, threatened with something so awful and lowly and disgusting. Sansa saw his expression on the read view mirror again, and she lightly shook her head to prevent him from reactions in any way that could have consequences for both of them. So Sandor kept driving, and Joffrey and Sansa kept glaring at each other.

"We have a deal about that too," Sansa reminded him, and Joffrey made a face.

"You can't have everything, my love," he said mockingly. "It's about time you learned that. And now stop bitching about it," he hissed. "I haven't touched your family, as promised. People only considered by you to be your family do not enter the package."

"Why Theon?" Sansa asked. Her voice shook a little bit. "He didn't do anything to you."

"Sansa, I think we should have this conversation in private," Joffrey said, looking to the front seat again, where Sandor was. He knew that there was no danger in Sandor hearing all that, but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Sansa didn't want to have that conversation in private. She didn't want anything to do with Joffrey in private, she wanted him as far away from her as possible. She wanted to talk about Theon's death right then and there, in that car, with Sandor present. That car was the safest place on Earth for her at the moment, the place where she felt more secure in every single way. She could draw her strength from Sandor, she felt bold enough to face Joffrey if he was there.

"Why Theon?" she insisted, with a certain edge to her voice that cut like steel.

"Because he was a nuisance," Joffrey finally confessed to her. He felt a certain pleasure when he said those words, pleasure in the fact that they hurt Sansa because they revealed the monster that hid underneath that charming face. Pleasure because they also revealed how far Joffrey was willing to go to get rid of the people that bothered her. He was a killer, a cold-blooded murderer that had already taken two lives, and would not hesitate to take another. It scared Sansa, and Joffrey enjoyed it. "He stood in my way, but now he can't stand in my way no more!"

"Then what stops you from doing the same to my brother?" Sansa asked. Her voice was trembling. "What stops me from telling everyone the truth before you do something like this again?"

"I can't do this again," Joffrey scoffed, laying back on his seat. "Two accidents? No, Theon's death won't surprise anyone, but if your damn brother showed up dead right now it would be bad, so don't worry. Beside, I have more use for him alive."

_"You are going to burn in hell!_ " Sansa yelled all of a sudden, surprising both Sandor and Joffrey.

Sandor looked at her worried, and Joffrey stared at her furious. Sansa moved looked away, unable to hold Joffrey's gaze anymore, it had already been too much. She could feel Joffrey getting angrier and angrier with her with each passing second.

"Sandor, stop the car!" Joffrey ordered, and Sandor had to obey. He pulled over right in front of a little shop that sold candles, and as soon as the car stopped Joffrey turned around to face Sansa again. He was ready to yell at her, to threaten her, to talk all that shit that he used to tell her, but Sansa wasn't in the car anymore. She had opened her door and had left the car, adventuring into the empty streets alone. She got immediately soaked by the pouring rain, and the cold air of winter hit her like a hundred knives piercing her skin. When he saw her, Joffrey cursed.

Joffrey opened the door to get out of the car and go after his wife. Sandor was about to open his own door, but Joffrey stopped him.

"Stay in the fucking car, Clegane!" Joffrey muttered. Anger was pouring out of every single pore in his body, and it was obvious in his enraged expression as he got out of the vehicle and slammed the door.

Sandor had to force himself to stay in the car. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't go against Joffrey's orders. But he didn't take his eyes off Joffrey as the young man walked away from the car and after his wife. Sansa was already well away from the car, but her husband ran and caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and forced her to stop and turn around. They were both soaked, and the heavy falling rain made it almost impossible to see them well. Sandor could only see that they were arguing loudly, but he could hear what they were saying. He wondered what would happen if anyone else heard them. Some curious neighbor might be alarmed by their loud and angry voices and come out of the safe warmness of his house to see what all the fuss was about, and gods knew what he could find out. Sansa wasn't biting her tongue that day. What she had said in the car moments ago would have gotten her in a hellhole of trouble had she said it in front of anyone else that wasn't Sandor and that Joffrey didn't trust. Maybe she was screaming the whole truth there, in the middle of Pyke, and no one could stop her. Joffrey couldn't stop her.

Joffrey was still grabbing Sansa's arm, and she was now silent and Joffrey was the one that was shouting. Sandor couldn't hear him, but he saw him. He was alert for in case he had to get out of the car. He would defend Sansa of he had to, even of that meant a lot of trouble for him. Joffrey continued shouting and Sansa started shouting again. She managed to pull away from Joffrey and make him let go of her. She started walking away, and Joffrey stayed there watching her leave. For a second Sandor actually believed that Joffrey was going to let Sansa go...

But then he saw the Governor clenching his fists, and he quickly crossed the distance that already separated him from Sansa. He called his wife several times until she turned around, and when she did Joffrey raised his hand, as if he were about to slap her. Sansa cringed.

Joffrey hadn't yet lowered his menacing hand when Sandor jumped out of the car, leaving the door open, and ran towards them. It took him two seconds to reach his boss and Sansa.

_"Enough!_ " he barked, infuriated.

Joffrey's hand was still up in the air, ready to down and hit Sansa at any moment. He didn't strike her, and he turned around to glare at his bodyguard.

"I told you to stay in the car!" he hissed.

Sandor usually tried to be disrespectful to avoid trouble at work. He wasn't going to hold back anymore, not now.

"Go back to the car, the two of you," he ordered. " _Now!_ "

_"You don't give orders to me!"_

"You are in the middle of the capital of the Iron Islands, for fuck's sake! Everyone is going to see you, or hear you!" he actually wanted people to hear them, so that part of the truth about Joffrey could start being unveiled, but he didn't want to wait for that to happen while the prick hit Sansa in public. He would not just stand there to watch and let it happen, and Sansa had had enough pain for one day during the funeral, she did not need a new beating to make things even worse. "Go to the car!"

Surprisingly enough, Joffrey obeyed him. The little prick was fuming, but he left his wife and returned to the car that had been carelessly parked under the rain. Sansa didn't move. She just stood there, getting even more soaked with each passing second. Her eyes were fixed on Joffrey's back, and Sandor knew by her expression that her thoughts weren't being pleasant. At the same time she looked emotionally exhausted, too tired to even start walking back to the car. Sandor helped her.

"Come on, little bird," he said in a very low voice so that only she could hear him. "Come back to the car."

He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, to guide her back to the car, but she protested.

"No..." she whimpered. "I don't want to go..."

"Little bird, please," he begged her. He didn't want her to have to go back to the car, but she had to go. Joffrey was waiting, and things were already bad enough. "Please. I won't let him hurt you."

She believed him. She tore her gaze away from Joffrey and the car and she looked at Sandor. He saw in her eyes that she wanted to hug him and kiss him, but of course she couldn't. She needed some comfort, and he hated not being able to give it to her. But what he could do was try to make things a bit less worse for her. But first he didn't to get her back inside the car, away from the rain. They were both soaked to the bones and the air was cold; Sandor feared that Sansa might get sick.

_"Please,"_ he begged again, and finally Sansa took a step forward, and then a second, and a third.

Sandor guided her back to the car and opened the door for her. She sat inside again, where it was warm and dry, and Sandor have her his jacket. Even though it was wet, it would keep her warmer than her simple and soaked black dress would. Joffrey just ignored both of them.

In silence, Sandor went back to the driver's seat, and drove them to Pyke's airport. Only Joffrey spoke again during that entire time. His voice was full of poison, bitter and hateful and angry. He didn't talk to Sansa, but to Sandor instead.

"Forget about everything you have heard here today. Is that clear?" It wasn't a question. It was a warning.

Sandor nodded. He never lied before, but now he did. That was a lie. He couldn't never forget.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were mere weeks left until the Election Day arrived. Winter had already arrived in the South of Westeros, located in the Southern Hemisphere unlike the state of the North. The winters in King's landing weren't as harsh as they were in other places of Westeros, but snow had been falling for several days already. They didn't get severe snow storms in that part of the country, but it had snowed enough that King's Landing had already two feet of snow in the streets.

Joffrey say again on his black leather chair behind his deal at his office. He had a hot cup of coffee in his hands, and he could look at the front yard of the Red Keep mansion from his window. His siblings Tommen and Myrcella were there, having a snow fight. There laughs reached Joffrey's office and annoyed him, but he had to beat them. He knew that his siblings had invited Sansa to go and play with them in the snow, but she had refused. Joffrey remembered when they were younger and he had spent some time in the North, and Sansa had loved to played in the snow with her siblings. Joffrey had despised them all, even the younger ones. Sansa's tomboy sister, Arya, had snuck up on him and thrown a huge snow ball to his face. Joffrey remembered when he heard the news that she had disappeared. He had never felt happier. He hoped they would find her at some point, dumped in some ditch. He had hated Bran Stark too, but soon after he had the climbing accident and he had broken his spine. Joffrey had felt like celebrating after that. Now he hated the eldest, Robb Stark... He wished that he could do to him what he did to the man's beloved daddy, or what he did to his precious friend. It would make Joffrey's day if he could get rid of Robb Stark in the bloodiest of ways, it would fill him with the deepest satisfaction to see his corpse, his name on the news... But that couldn't be. Too many deaths had already happened, and that pissed Joffrey off.

He only had one way of dealing with Stark now, and it was through the deal that he had spoken with his grandfather about. It was the deal for which he had ordered Theon's tragic and horrific death... He hoped all that wasn't in vain. He wanted his plan to work, he wanted a way of winning even of he lost on the end...

Robb Stark arrived at his office at the time that was scheduled. He had stopped wearing black weeks after Theon's death, but he wasn't dressed in more lively colors. His impeccable suit was grey, unlike Joffrey's navy blue. Starks and grey...

Joffrey shook his hand, and put up his best act.

"Robb," he greeted the man. They both had known each other long enough to be able to speak to each other using first names. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Joffrey," Robb said.

Joffrey knew that Robb was lying as much as he was lying. He hated seeing Robb, and Robb hated him. It had always been like that, and the fact that they were now brothers-in-law didn't help much to the situation. Robb still didn't like that his sister had married Joffrey, even though he genuinely believed that she was happy. But he wasn't such a big idiot as his father was, and Joffrey knew it.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Joffrey said. He knew he had to be empathetic of he wanted his plan to work.

Robb thanked him, and an extreme sadness covered his features for a fraction of a second before going back to normality. Joffrey would have pulled of he could. Why had the Starks have to be so emotional? It was pathetic.

"Please take a seat," he invited Robb to sit down, and offered him a cup of coffee. Robb declined it politely. "You must be exhausted."

"Yes," Robb nodded. He had travelled down to the capital from the North to be in his party's headquarters during the Election Day, and to do political stuff that he needed to do before then. The campaign was still going on, after all. "But cut to the point, Joffrey. What do you want?"

Yes, definitely Robb Stark wasn't as stupid as his father was. He knew that there were specific intentions behind Joffrey's invitation. The fact that he had still accepted to go to meet Joffrey meant that he was interested in what the man had to say. Joffrey's plan could work.

"We have both lost the men that were going to be our Vice Presidents," Joffrey started saying, trying to keep a calm and neutral tone. He wanted to sound a bit casual, he couldn't let anything give away that all that was a plan that had led to Theon's death. "And not only that, they were our family. Theon was your best friend since childhood, practically your brother, and Renly was my uncle. They were people we trusted... It is very hard, if not impossible, to replace people like that."

"It is," Robb agreed. "That's why I haven't chosen yet who I will choose for Vice President in case that I... Well, in case that I win."

Joffrey knew that Robb hadn't chosen anyone yet. He had been carefully following all of Robb's moves during all that time, making sure that everything was going well with the plan. He needed time to pass between Theon's death and the day that he actually proposed his deal to Robb, and he had to make sure that no one else stepped in the way during that time. Luckily, no one had.

"I haven't chosen anyone either since uncle passed away," he said. He could see Robb frowning.

"Renly was going to be your Vice President?"

"Yes. Or I his, it depended on which way it went. But now that he is gone... I can't find anyone that is remotely like my uncle. I feel that I can't trust anyone the same way," Joffrey lied. He hated having to talk like that, but he was doing what needed to be done. He saw that Robb was surprised, but the man said nothing for some time. He seemed to be thinking very hard... And then his expression have away that he had come up with an idea. Joffrey suspected that Robb had figured out what he was about to propose.

He was right.

"You want me to be your Vice President," Robb said, "or you to be my Vice President... Depends on who wins."

Joffrey nodded. He was glad he didn't have to explain anything.

"We are family now," he said. "Who better than each other to rely on?"

"Does Sansa know about this?" was the first thing that Robb immediately asked right after Joffrey mentioned that they were family.

Joffrey nodded again. He had informed his wife of his plans, and even though she hadn't liked them one bit, he had made her agree to say that she liked them should anyone asked her about them.

"What does she think about this?"

"She likes it. If you don't believe me, feel free to go and ask her. I believe she's in the library, reading."

Robb didn't need to go. He just sat there on the leather armchair, thinking really hard about what Joffrey had just proposed... When minutes passed and Joffrey still did not hVe an answer, he continued trying to persuade his brother-on-law.

"Think about it, it's a win-win situation. We keep the family together, and we would make a great team. The Lannisters have power all over the country and could help you in many ways... And the North is a powerful weapon. The North and the Lannisters together... Think about it, Robb. We can make this country the greatest in the world."

Robb knew that Joffrey was right... But then again, he didn't know anything about Joffrey's real intentions, nor did he know anything about the Governor's dark and cruel nature... He didn't know anything, and so he didn't know any better to make the right decision.

"I accept," he said after minutes and minutes and minutes of tense silence and expectation.

Joffrey fought hard to hide the grin that wanted to appear in his mouth. He forced himself to smile cordially, appearing to Robb as if he was happy and thankful when in truth he was victorious.

Joffrey never lost. He always got what he wanted, one way or another...

Both Governor stood up from their chairs and a shook hands, sealing their deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the Election Day! Who will win...?


	28. Elections Day.

Sansa had never seen Joffrey so nervous and restless. He was walking up and down the room, muttering things under his breath. He had dark circles under his eyes, product of a sleepless night. Sansa shared a room and a bed with him (though the only thing that they did in it was sleep, thank God,) and she had felt him tossing and turning around the entire night. After he had realized he wouldn't get a single minute of sleep that night, Joffrey had left the bed to drink a glass of scotch and smoke a cigar that would help calm him, and he hadn't returned to the bedroom until the next morning. In nights like that, when Sansa was left alone in the bed, she usually had wonderful nights full of pleasant dreams that helped her rest, but she also couldn't sleep that night. How could she sleep, when the next morning were the elections? She had dreaded that day almost as much as she had dreaded her wedding day. The elections would determine who the next President of Westeros would be: her brother, or her husband.

Now that she though about it, either one of them winning would be a very bad thing. She wished that Renly were still alive so that he could be, and she could stop fearing what would happen when Robb or Joffrey became President. She imagined possible scenarios for both of them, and they were all bad.

Many would say that she was paranoid, but the last years had taught her that nothing good came out of Joffrey or her family being in power.

The morning had come, and with it Election Day had also arrived. Schools had been closed so that the citizens of age could go and cast their voting ballots, and hours passed by. Joffrey had had to drink lots of coffee, and he was still nervous. Whenever he was nervous he was usually in a foul mood, but not that day. Sansa knew that he was in a good mood because of the deal that he had made with her brother, which ensured that he would be at least Vice President should things go wrong for him. However, that had only been a precaution. Joffrey was confident that he was going to win the elections, but he always liked to have a plan B just in case; being Vice President was it.

They spent most of the day in the Red Keep, but when evening came Joffrey told Sansa that they had to leave. He had to go to the headquarters of his party to await for the results of the elections. The last voting ballots were cast at 8:00 pm, and at that time the voting was closed and the votes started to be counted to see the results. It was 6:00 pm when Joffrey and Sansa left the Red Keep, but time passed quickly, and by the time they arrived at the old building with classical architecture that was their destination, only an hour was left for the voting to end.

Everyone was there. Sansa didn't know most of the people, but she did recognize some people that belonged to that party. Most of them were Lannisters, and Sansa saw Tywin Lannister and Kevan Lannistdr among those people. Joffrey went to talk to them and await for the results to start arriving, though it would still be a couple hours before that started happening. Sansa left to a corner of the big room were most members of the party, and all the people in Joffrey's team for the campaign, were waiting.

She sat down on a chair next to the window and crossed her legs to be in a comfortable position. She also crossed her arms over her chest and observed all the people there. She wondered what Robb was doing. She knew that he was in the capital because he had travelled to be in the headquarters of his own party as well. She tried to picture him in her mind, and she imagined him nervous. Robb always handled his nerves more or less well. He became tense and very serious when he was nervous, and people around him could always feel it. Sansa supposed that his wife was with him, just like she had to be there with Joffrey, and she imagined Talisa as the First Lady. Then she imagine herself as First Lady, and she decided that Talisa would do it much better. Sansa preferred to be away from politics, she liked her job, she liked music and acting. She wanted to go back to doing what she liked, but if she became First Lady then it would be much more difficult to go to the recording studios and get roles in films, because she wouldn't have the time for it. She could still work on the movie that she had gotten the main role for months ago, and she would still work on her music, but it wouldn't be the same...

"What are you thinking of?" a raspy voice got her put of her thoughts. She looked to her side and found Sandor there. She smiled, happy to see him, but she realized she was smiling too much and she became serious again.

"Of nothing... I was just wondering what it would be like to be the First Lady."

"Would you like it?"

"No," Sansa said immediately, shaking her head. Then she quickly looked around to make sure that no one had heard her say that. "No, I wouldn't like it... Years ago yes, I would have loved it, but now being First Lady would be being a part of a world that I don't want to be involved with. I hate the politics in this country, and I hate what they have done to me, and to my family... I don't want to be First Lady. I just want to be Sansa, the singer."

"You can never be just Sansa, the singer," Sandor chuckled. "You are Sansa Stark. The whole world knows and admires you..."

"You see me as so differently than everyone else does," Sansa said, lowering her voice so that only he could hear her. "For you I am Sansa. Not a Stark, not a star, not a possible First Lady... Just Sansa."

"You are everything to me, Sansa," he suddenly whispered, catching her off guard.

She stared up at him stunned. Sandor had just confessed to her something so big and so meaningful in one single and simple sentence, and she didn't know how to react. He was always coarse, and rude, and rough with everyone. With everyone except her, of course, but she had never expected to hear such words coming from him. But he said them, and they were true. In that half year, Sansa had become everything to him... She had come into his life all of a sudden and unwelcome, and she had turned his world upside down, and now she was his world and there was no denying it. Not even he could deny it...

Sansa wanted to kiss him. She wouldn't even care that all those people were there, if only she didn't know how bad the consequences would be for them... So she didn't kiss him, but the way on which she looked at him was enough. He saw the way she looked at him, and Sansa could swear that she saw Sandor's grey eye shinning in a special way.

"If your brother wins, I will take you to him. You will tell him the whole truth," Sandor rasped. "He will be the most powerful man in the country, and he will be able to stop this little shit from hurting you more. Then I will take you away, anywhere you want."

"No," she quickly said, shaking her head. Sandor saw the panic that suddenly filled her eyes, and he frowned. "No, I don't want Robb to win..."

"Why not?" he wondered. "You can't possibly mean that you want Joffrey to be the fucking President."

"No, I don't want that... But you have seen what happened to Theon, and that was all just so that Joffrey could make the deal with my brother. Imagine what will happen to Robb if he wins!"

She didn't even want to think about it. All the terrible things that could happen to Robb, just like they had happened to her father, and to Theon... No, she couldn't think about it if she didn't want to go crazy.

"Nothing is going to happen to your brother," Sandor told her, trying to calm her and stop her from thinking about that. "Nothing can happen to him. There's been too many deaths, too many accidents... And all of them benefit Joffrey. How long do you think that it will be until people figure it out?"

Sandor was right, and Sansa wanted to believe him. Still, she didn't want Robb to win the elections. She wanted him as far from harm's way as possible, even if that meant having to suffer Joffrey as President.

The voting had already ended in all the cities and towns of every State, and the votes were being counted. Everybody got nervous, and Sansa and Sandor waited in their corner, forgotten by everyone else. They heard phone calls, and the sound of various TVs that only talked about the elections.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Sansa asked Sandor. He shrugged.

"I wanted your brother to win, but from the looks of it it seems like Joffrey will win. That's what everybody thinks, and I've thought so too for a while."

Sansa didn't know who was going to win. At this point she just wanted to know.

In the elections in Westeros, the candidate that got the highest number of electoral votes won. Each State had a number of electoral votes that depended on the population of that State, and the candidate that had gotten the majority of votes in that State won all the electoral votes. The States of Crownlands, the Reach, the Westernlands, the Vale, and the North all had the highest amount of electoral votes: 4. Then the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and Dorne granted 3 electoral votes. The Iron Islands only have 2 electoral votes because it was the smallest State.

From what Sansa had learned when she took a look at how things were going in each State she had gotten a pretty good idea of who was going to be the winner...

The first results came after the first forty-five minutes of waiting. Someone in the room yelled:

"Joffrey won in the Crownlands!"

There were cheers and applause, even though everyone knew that it was obvious that Joffrey was going to win in the Crownlands, the State where he was the Governor. That got him 4 electoral votes.

"Well, things are starting good," Sandor said sarcastically, and Sansa sighed.

The second results came soon after, from the Iron Islands. Robb had won. Sansa could see Joffrey grinning among all the crowd in that place, because he was still two points ahead of his opponent.

More time had to pass before more results arrived, but the results of two states arrived at the same time. Robb had won in the North. Joffrey had won in the Westernlands.

8-6. Joffrey was still winning...

Things changed when the results from the Vale came. Its 4 electoral votes were for Robb, which placed him ahead of Joffrey by 2 points. Sansa heard her husband cursing out loud among all those politicians, and she also heard Sandor whistling with amusement.

"This is getting good," she hears him murmuring under his breath, but she but her lip with worry.

"This is not good," she murmured.

"Don't worry, little bird. Your brother was lucky now. He will get the Riverlands also, but then everything else will be for Joffrey. You will be the First Lady before the night ends..."

She hated the idea, but she hoped he was right.

 

Robb sat down on a chair, with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. He had been winning for a brief time. After he won in the Vale, he received the news that he had won in the Riverlands as well. That gave him 13 points, while Joffrey still had 8. He hadn't wanted to sing victory so soon, and he had been right not to do so. Right after the victory in the Riverlands, Joffrey won in the Stormlands. That gave him 11 points...

"You are still ahead of him," one of the men in his team, Roose Bolton, told him. Robb scoffed.

"Joffrey was ahead of me before, and now he's not. Things can change, and there's still two States left..."

He knew that Dorne was going to go to Joffrey, he knew that much. All the reports said so, and the reports hadn't been wrong so far.

It all came down to the Reach. No one knew what would really happen on the Reach. The reports had said that Joffrey would win there, and then they changed and said that Robb would win, and then they changed again, and now they didn't say anything. Anything could happen, and Robb crossed his fingers and prayed that those points would go for him. If they didn't give him those four points he would be lost.

His wife Talisa saw his distress and kneeled at his side. She placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed her fingers, massaging the tension away from him.

"Don't worry, my love," she said with her soft and soothing voice. He sighed, and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers while he closed his eyes. He had a headache.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous..." he apologized. He felt Talisa smiling.

"It's okay," she assured him. "It's normal."

He heard a phone ringing, and voices talking. And he heard worry in those voices, even though he could not hear what they were saying. Had more results arrived...?

They had. He opened his eyes and saw one of the men in his team for the campaign looking at him, pity written all over his face. Robb felt his stomach twitching painfully. He knew what the man was going to say...

"Joffrey won in the Reach," the man informed him.

There was a great and uncomfortable silence reigning over the headquarters of the party all of a sudden. You could hear a pin drop. Every single person in there was looking at Robb, who had turned as pale as a sheet of paper. There wasn't disappointment in the eyes that stared at him, just some kind of strange pity, but it was the look on the faces of people who knew that the battle was lost.

Talisa was going to speak, probably to tell him not to worry, but he didn't stay to hear it. He stood up from the chair and walked away from the room, crossing a door to another room that was next to the big one in which everyone was reunited. The smaller room (a meeting room,) was empty and allowed him to be alone while he digested the news. He wasn't going to throw a tantrum over not winning, that would be stupid. He knew that the possibility of not winning was there, and he had tried to get ready for it, but he felt very disappointed and he couldn't deny it. He had tried very hard, he had done his best to try and win the people's hearts. He wanted to get their votes not just to be their President, but to make that country a better place. That was what his father wanted to do, help make that country a better place... But he had died before it was possible. Robb had tried to win to do it for him, but he had failed...

He heard the door opening behind him, and he turned around to see his wife standing there. He sighed and allowed her to approach him.

"How are you?" she asked him, worried about him.

"I could be better," he admitted, and he tried to smile. "Well... I can't say that I'm really surprised."

"You haven't failed," she told him. She cupped his face between her hands and have him a brief and soft kiss on the lips, with proved to be very calming. "You will still be Vice President. You can help Joffrey be a very good President, and you can still make this country a better place, just like you wanted..."

"I know," he nodded. "But I wanted to do this. For my father..."

"Your father would be proud of you no matter what," Talisa told him, and Robb wanted to believe it.

He hugged her tightly, and she did the same to him. They stayed like that for a long time, they didn't know for how long, until they started hearing a lot of noise coming from the other room. They separated from each other and frowned, and they stared at the door just before it opened all of a sudden. When the door opened, Roose Bolton came in, and so did the sound of a lot of people cheering and applauding joyously. They swore they could even see people opening bottles of champagne and passing cups around.

Roose Bolton was smiling. Robb looked at him confused, not understanding what was happening.

"Roose, what...?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't have left so soon," Roose told him, answering his question. "Dorne decided to surprise us all."

Robb still didn't understand at first, mainly because of the shock. Talisa understood it before he did, and He gasped. Only then did Robb realize what that meant, and he became even paler than before. His eyes were round and wide, same as his mouth.

"What...? Do you mean...?"

Roose Bolton nodded.

"Congratulations, Mr. President."


	29. If Only It Were That Easy...

Everyone was silent, looking at Joffrey afraid that he might explode. No one dared to say anything, not did they dare to move. They just looked at him, measuring his reaction. His expression was calm and still, and he was so still that he seemed to be made of rock.

Everyone had started celebrating right after the news came in that Joffrey had won in the Reach. Everybody had believed that he was going to win in Dorne as well, so that was it. People had opened champagne bottles and they were starting to make toasts when suddenly one brave voice dared to speak up to announce that they had been wrong, and that Robb had won in Dorne.

That meant that Robb had 16 points. One more than Joffrey, who only had 15.

Robb Stark was the new President of Westeros.

Curses and explanations of disbelief had been heard all over the room right after the news came in, and several politicians had expressed their disappointment and disbelief until they all started noticing Joffrey, and they felt silent because of him.

Joffrey's expression was calm, yes. But the vein in his neck and the vein in his temple were beating furiously. The glass of champagne that had been given to him had been shattered inside his clenched fist. Some bits of glass had cut his palm, and champagne and blood dripped from his hand unto the floor.

Tywin Lannister looked uncomfortable standing next to his grandson. He was the first one who dared to break the silence, clearing his throat before saying.

"Well, that is it then."

Joffrey ignored him. He threw the shattered glass on a table and walked towards the exit.

" _Sansa, we are going home!"_ he called his wife, who immediately left her chair and followed him. Sandor followed them both.

Millions of thoughts were appearing all at once in Sansa's head. The most prominent one was, _Oh gods... What's going to happen now?_

She knew that Joffrey was angry, but he wasn't in full rage mode. He was Vice President, that was something at least. But she wasn't worried because of what might happen to her because of her husband's disappointment... She was worried about her brother. Robb was the President now. He was the most powerful man in the whole country, but his enemies had also gotten much worse because of it. What happened to Theon popped up again in Sansa's mind, and she shuddered.

Apparently Joffrey read her mind.

"Don't worry," he muttered. "I won't touch your beloved brother."

She sighed in relief, though a little bit of fear remained in her. She did believe that Joffrey wouldn't touch him, or at least not yet. What Sandor had said earlier was true, there had been too many deaths already... It would be stupid to try to harm Robb. However, while her fear for what might happen to Robb disappeared, the fear for what might happen to her became stronger. Joffrey wasn't very angry now, but he was disappointed, and he wasn't a nice person when he was disappointed. Would he do anything to her once they were back in the mansion?

At least Sandor was there with her, but Sandor couldn't always save her... She knew that he wanted to keep her always safe, she had seen it after Theon's funeral when he yelled at Joffrey after he tried to hit her in the street. But that was dangerous, and she didn't want him doing it again. If Joffrey wanted to lash out at her, then fine, she would endure it. But she didn't want Sandor getting hurt.

But Sandor was stubborn as a mule, and she also knew that he couldn't care less about his safety, not anymore. Because of that, she prayed that Joffrey didn't do anything to her that night.

She was lucky. Joffrey drank a few shots of whiskey to calm himself down after he got to the Red Keep, and then he went straight to bed. Sansa was safe that night.

Joffrey stayed calm for a couple of days. Sansa called her brother the next day to congratulate him for winning the elections. He was her brother after all, and her husband could not deny her that phone call. She wished she could see her brother, but he was extremely busy those days. He had meetings with all kinds of people, and also with the current President, soon former President, Doran Martell. Robb had to have a meeting with Joffrey as well, due that his brother-in-las was his new Vice President. Sansa didn't know when that meeting was going to happen, but she wished that Joffrey would take her with him. She knew he wouldn't, though. He would leave her home, alone, so that she had as little contact with her family as possible. He would make up some excuse in case that Robb asked about her, and that would be it.

Sansa barely saw her husband in the days following the elections, and she was glad. She only saw him at night, when it was time to sleep, and that was more than she wanted to see him. She wished she could go away on tour or to film a movie or a video clip, but filming wouldn't start in months. Joffrey had told her to have her schedule free, so that they could go on their...

...On their honeymoon.

Whenever Sansa thought about it she felt desperate. She didn't want to go on that trip. She didn't want to be alone with Joffrey. She didn't want to be married to him! She didn't want to hold her end of the deal they had made before their wedding...

But she had no choice, had she? She never had a choice.

Joffrey called her to his office four days after the elections. She wondered what he could want, but he went to see him. Joffrey didn't like to be kept waiting... Sansa checked her reflection in the mirror before leaving her room; Joffrey got mad when she didn't look pretty, so she made sure that there weren't dark circles under her eyes or that her hair was messy. She hated looking pretty for Joffrey, but she preferred to live in peace and not have him insulting her. She left her room and crossed the hallways that led to her husband's office. She knocked before walking in.

"Sit down, Sansa," was the first thing Joffrey said right after she entered the office.

She did as he told her and say in the black leather chairs in front of Joffrey's desk. He didn't look at her, he was focused on looking at something in the screen of his computer. She waited in silence until he spoke again.

"We are leaving in four days, after I meet with your brother," he informed her. "It's about time we leave for our honeymoon, don't you think?"

Sansa's stomach turned, and she felt sick. Joffrey was asking her that on purpose. He knew how much she was dreading the honeymoon, how much she hated the idea of it, how sickened she was by it. Joffrey loved her discomfort, and he chuckled when he sensed her tension.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked.

She wanted to tell him that she didn't want to go, that she wanted to stay in King's Landing. She said something different;

"Where are we going?" she decided to answer his question with another question. Joffrey looked at the screen again.

"We are going on a cruise in the Caribbean. Lovely, don't you think?"

"Y-yes," Sansa mumbled. "Very lovely... Do we have to go now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Can't we go later? The elections were less than a week ago, everything is so recent... Wouldn't it be better to go later?"

"No," Joffrey said. "No, I want to go now, so we will go now. Doran Martell will still be the President for a couple more months, but once your brother is the President and I become Vice President I will have a lot of work and no time to leave this damn city..."

Sansa didn't say anything, she knew it was useless. She had to get used to the idea that in four days she would leave the city to go on the worst honeymoon ever with her husband, whom she hated and wanted dead. It was going to be a nightmare.

"We will have to move," she said all of a sudden, not really thinking before saying the words. Joffrey stared at her confused.

"What?"

"We will have to move," she repeated. "To another place. This is the President's house, we are living here only because President Martell allowed you to stay after your father died because he had been eight years in office. Now this place is my brother's."

"You fucking Starks..." Joffrey muttered with venom in his voice, suddenly very annoyed. What had angered him was the realization that he would have to leave that place. He loved the Red Keep mansion, and he didn't want to leave it. Now he would have to leave it and hand it over to Robb Stark, and that felt like a punch in the gut. " _You all are such... a pain... in my ass_..."

Sansa just stared at her husband, saying nothing else after he muttered that. She could feel him getting angry by the second, and she knew she shouldn't say anything else. She had provoked him enough already. Joffrey leaned back on his chair and looked at her; his gaze was so intense and intimidating that Sansa unwillingly lowered her gaze to her lap, trying to avoid his eyes. She remained there not moving not saying anything until Joffrey moved his hand, gesturing her to get away.

"Leave," he said. "I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. _Leave, **now**!"_

He didn't have to say it twice. Sansa stood up from the chair and quickly left Joffrey's office. She walked through the hallways, and her quick steps led her to her old room. She hated the whole mansion, but her old room was the only place where she felt safe. She had locked herself there during uncountable hours while she was still single, looking for moments of peace and quiet when no one would bother her. She closed the door behind her and walked to the bed. It was placed right in front of the window, and she laid down on the bed and hugged the pillows while she looked out the window. She wanted to fall asleep and dream of a better world and a better life. Maybe when she woke up she would find that weeks or months had passed, and Joffrey was home and she could go back home...

She sighed. Having dreams wasn't illegal, and she only wanted to dream...

She closed her eyes, and right after she did that someone knocked on her door. She opened her eyes again and frowned.

"Go away," she said, thinking it was Joffrey or maybe Cersei or someone else from that family. She didn't want to see any of them.

"Sansa," a raspy voice came to hear from outside the doors.

She gasped and sat up on the bed right at the same time that Sandor opened the doors. He didn't come inside the bedroom. Instead he stood there, looking at her.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No! But you shouldn't be here!" she exclaimed, alarmed. What if Joffrey or someone else saw and got the wrong idea? Sandor wasn't supposed to be there talking to her when he hadn't been assigned to take care of her...

"Everyone left, and Joffrey is locked in his office," Sandor explained. There was no danger of being seen by anyone. "I came to ask you if you wanted a ride somewhere."

"A ride?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, a ride. Do you want me to drive you somewhere?"

She didn't need to go anywhere, but she did want to get out of the Red Keep mansion... She usually didn't go out without getting Joffrey's permission first, but she guessed that he wouldn't mind her going out if his most trusted bodyguard was with her. Joffrey still thought that Sandor was loyal to him.

She nodded, and jumped off the bed. She went to her new bedroom to pick up her purse and her phone and some money (she never went out without those things,) and then she followed Sandor out of the mansion. They got inside one of the black Mercedes that was parked with the rest of the cars, and Sandor drove away from that place.

There was a lot of traffic that day in the city. King's Landing was the biggest city in the country, home to millions of people, and driving was sometimes awful. Sansa didn't mind to be stuck in traffic that day. She was happy by just being away from the mansion, and anyways she didn't have any place where she had to be. Sandor, on the other hand, looked impatient. Sansa knew he didn't like traffic, but she could see that his hands were sweaty and she could see on the fear view mirror that his forehead was also sweaty. Was he nervous about something?

"Is something wrong?" she asked him. He shook his head, but she didn't believe him. "Sandor?"

"I heard you two talking in the office," she told her then. "I heard that he wants to take you away..."

"It's only for two weeks..." Sansa murmured, but Sandor didn't listen to her.

"The three months that he gave you are already over... He can't take you away. I won't bloody allow it!" he rasped. Sansa could sense his distress.

"And what are you going to do? Throw him overboard and let him drown in the Caribbean?"

"It's tempting!" Sandor chuckled. "But no, I will do something better... I'm taking you to your family."

Sansa's eyes became wide with shock, and her mouth fell open. She stared at Sandor through the rear view mirror, alarmed.

"You can't do that!" she cried, knowing exactly what he wanted to do.

"Oh yes, I can!"

"I can't go to Robb! I can't tell him the truth!"

"Yes you can, Sansa. I won't tolerate for another fucking second that you stay in that bloody mansion with that fucking asshole, I won't," he said, behind dead serious.

"But when he finds out he will go ballistic! He will kill Robb, and he will kill me, and he will kill you!"

" _Over my dead body!_ Besides, if your brother can't save your neck from Joffrey and if he can't save his own ass, he won't make a very good President! If he can't defend his own people then how in seven fucking hells is he going to defend a whole fucking country!"

 _"Stop yelling!"_ Sansa cried, and Sandor shut up when he realized that he had upset her. He was just too nervous and too desperate. He wanted to get her out of that her she was living and she wasn't doing anything to make things easier! "I know what Joffrey is capable of! And he won't sit down to wait for Robb to come after him... He will have his revenge if he finds out I said anything..."

"Well, then I suppose he can't know anything," Sandor muttered. "You go to your brother and you tell him the truth. He will immediately deal with Joffrey and with anyone that had anything to do with what happened to your father and to Greyjoy. It's not like he's going to publish in the newspaper that he's coming after Joffrey! And even if he did, what would Joffrey do? He can't do anything because the whole bloody world will know it was him, and then his ass will be buried deep in his own shit!"

Sansa realized that Sandor was right, and she felt much better. It could work. Maybe they could get away with it, and then she would be free, finally free...

"Will you stay with me?" she asked then. "If this works? If I can go back home, will you stay with me?"

She hoped he said yes. She dreamed of a brighter future, one where Joffrey was gone and Sandor was at her side forever. She would love to take him home with her, to Winterfell, and spend long days in the snow with him and feel happy again.

She saw the look in Sandor's eyes softening.

"Little bird... I will stay with you even if this whole plane blows up in our faces."

Forever, he meant to say. No matter if it all works out, or if it all went terribly wrong, he would always be by her side. His words warmed Sansa's heart, and she smiled. She saw him smiling too, even thought it was a worried smile.

He's afraid, she realized, just like me. We both know that this could go wrong. But he's trying to help me all the same.

"I love you," she said then. She really wanted to say those words to him at that moment.

"I love you too," Sandor said, and the words came easily to him now because they were the biggest truth that he had ever said, and Sansa knew it.

Sansa tried to relax in the car then. It wasn't often that she could manage to be with Sandor alone anymore, and she wanted to forget about her fears and worries while they were stuck in traffic. For a few minutes she felt happy just by looking at him, and she blushed whenever her eyes met Sandor's in the mirror. Sansa's blushing made Sandor chuckle.

"You are becoming as red as your head, little bird. Why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. Sometimes she just felt shy, and Sandor's intense gaze had that effect on her. "I'm thinking about the Sapphire Isle. And Highgarden. And Sunspear."

"Ah," Sandor said, smiling. "Happy memories, aye?"

"Very happy..." she nodded.

"When we get you out of this damned city I will take you wherever you want," Sandor said. "Somewhere pretty. And I will make you sing louder than you did in all those nights put together."

After hearing him said that, Sansa blushed furiously. She leaned forward and playfully hit him in the shoulder.

"Sandor!" she scolded him, but at the same time she couldn't help but laugh.

" _Oi!_ Don't hit the driver!"

"The car isn't moving," Sansa retorted, and Sandor grinned.

The car had stopped in front of a red light, and the windows of the car were tinted black, so Sansa saw no danger in doing what she wanted to do. While the car was still not moving, Sansa moved forward so that she was standing in the empty place in between the driver's seat and the passenger's seat. Sandor looked at her frowning, wondering what she was doing, but before he could say anything Sansa kissed him. Sandor gasped against her mouth, surprised, but he didn't protest. He kissed her back immediately, full of need of her. They hadn't been able to have a proper moment alone together since the day of her wedding... While they kissed, Sansa placed her hand on the back of Sandor's hair and ran her fingers through it, just like she liked to do. Sandor let go of the steering wheel and placed his own hand on Sansa's face, bringing her closer to him while he kissed her. He loved it when he felt Sansa smiling against his mouth.

The moment was sweet, but short. The traffic light turned green and the cars started moving. Sandor and Sansa didn't realize at first, but when the cars behind them started honking furiously, both of them jumped in their seats and realized that they were stopping the traffic.

"I'm going, I'm going, you annoying buggers!" Sandor barked, annoyed. He started driving again, but the car right behind them honked again. Sandor rolled down his window and stuck his arm out. He showed the finger to the car that was behind them, and Sansa burst out laughing.

She didn't want to be in the backseat anymore, so she crept through the empty space in front of her to the empty passenger's seat. The movement of the at almost threw her against Sandor.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed when he saw her. Then he thought it was a pity that it was winter and Sansa was wearing jeans. Had she been wearing a dress or a skirt in a warmer weather he could have caught a very nice glimpse at her long legs. Anyways, seeing Sansa in jeans was also great. She sat down on the passenger's seat so that she could be closer to him than she was in the back seat, and she touched his face while she looked at him with a loving expression. The side of his face that was facing her was the good side, but she didn't mind anymore which side she was looking at. He was just Sandor to her, there wasn't really a good side or a bad side of him. She caressed his cheek, covered in a short beard. He hadn't shaved in days, but Sansa liked it, even though it was all scratchy and rough.

Sandor felt sparks in his nerves because of Sansa's touch. He had gotten used to her touching him even though they could not openly display any affection very often. He had always hated people touching him, but Sansa's hands felt like glory on his skin. He left only his left hand on the steering wheel, while he placed his right hand in Sansa's thigh.

A few minutes later he put his hand over Sansa's hand, which still caressed his cheek. He caressed her soft skin with his calloused fingers, but he stopped when he felt something metallic and cold in one of her fingers. He touched it with one of his fingers, and realized that it was her wedding ring. Sansa tensed.

"You will be able to take this off soon, little bird," he told her. He put his hand again on her leg. "Everything will be alright."

The traffic became lighter and faster, and soon they arrived to the headquarters of Robb's party. Sansa looked at it through the window while Sandor parked, and she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. All her worries and anxiety had come back all of a sudden now that she was there, and she was so close to doing that which she was so afraid of doing: telling the truth.

"Come on, little bird," he encouraged her. "You are almost there."

He was right, she was almost there. She might as well do it before she got cold feet. She was about to open her door to get out of the car, but stopped when she saw that Sandor was doing the same.

"No!" she stopped him. "Please, stay in the car."

"Why?"

"Please, I don't want anybody to see you. If something happens I want you out of all of this."

"Bugger that, I'm not leaving you alone."

"Please," she begged him. He listened to her, though he did it reluctantly. She thanks him, and then she opened the door and got off the car.

"Tell your brother to kick Joffrey's ass for me," was the last thing that she heard Sandor saying before she closed the door.

Sandor had parked the car in the street in front of the building of the headquarters of Robb's party. She crossed the road while being careful that no cars came and hit her, and then she walked all the way to the entrance of the building. She had to show her identification, but once the security guards saw who she was they immediately called a lady that led her straight to a waiting room next to her brother's office.

"He's in a meeting right now, but he shouldn't be there for long," the lady informed Sansa.

Sansa sat down on a couch in the waiting room. The lady left, and Sansa waited patiently for her brother to get out of that meeting. Who was he meeting with? He was so busy those days... Sansa knew that he was only going to get busier, being President wasn't an easy affair. She really hoped that everything would go well for Robb in Presidency, her brother deserved good things. He was a good man, and a very smart one, and she knew that he wanted to do great things for Westeros. The people loved him because of his friendly ways and because he often went out of his way to help people, even those he didn't know of anything, in any ways that he could. He didn't want Presidency for power. In fact, when he was younger he had run away from politics, despising them and the greedy powerful politicians that ruled over them all, but then he was inspired by their father, who was a great man and a great politician. So Robb got into politics, and now he was President, and he only wanted it to serve the people in a just way.

There wasn't anything in the waiting room to entertain her, but she wasn't getting bored anyways. She was too nervous for that. She felt the contents of her stomach stirring, and she had to fight the urge to bite her fingernails. Would Joffrey believe her? Of course he would! Sansa could never make up such a horrible lie about anyone, Robb would know that everything she said about Joffrey was true! And then what? Would he send people to arrest Joffrey and the people that were his accomplices? Would Joffrey go to jail for the rest of his life, or be executed? There was death penalty for the worse criminals of that country. Sansa didn't wish for the death of anyone, but she would definitely not cry for the loss of Joffrey. Once he was gone, Sansa would go back to the North, to Winterfell. She would write new music, songs about love and happiness and freedom. She would visit her father's grave and tell him how much she loved and missed him. She would do so many things... Perhaps she could start a new family? Her own family... with Sandor.

She smiled at the thought, and she tried to imagine what a family with him would look like. Kids, and maybe a dog or two. Or three! She knew that Sandor loved dogs, and she liked them very much too. It was a beautiful mental image, and she found herself wanting it to be true with all her might. She wondered what Sandor would think about it.

"Miss Stark?" the lady had returned to the waiting room, pulling Sansa away from her own thoughts. "Your brother is done with the meeting."

Happy, Sansa stood up from the couch and followed the lady out of the waiting room and towards the door of Robb's office. It was closed because she was still saying good bye to the people he was meeting with. The woman disappeared again, and Sansa waited there. She supposed that Robb was going to be greatly surprised of seeing her there. Then he would be happy. Then he would he horrified as she told him the whole truth.

The door of the office opened. Sansa could hear the voice of her brother coming out from inside. There were other voices talking too, so he must be meeting several people at the same time. First an unknown man came out of the office and left, and then came out a second man...

Sansa froze and paled when she saw him, and she wished the Earth would swallow her, or that she had invisibility powers and could disappear right then and there. But she wasn't that lucky. The man saw her.

"Sansa," said Tywin Lannister in an ice-cold tone. "What are you doing here?"

She gulped. She felt sweat dripping down her forehead. What was she supposed to do now?!

"I was going to visit my brother," she said. She might as well say the truth then, because what other reason could she have to be there?

"Oh? What for?" the man inquired.

"I only wanted to say good bye," she quickly lied. "Because Joffrey and I are leaving soon..."

"I see," Tywin said, but Sansa could see in his eyes that he didn't believe her lie. Oh gods. He took a step forward and got closer to Sansa. She almost took a step back, but the wall was right behind her. Tywin Lannister was the most intimidating man she had ever seen in her life. When he spoke, he did it in a low and warning tone. "I sure hope you know what you are doing, Miss Stark."

The message was clear as water. _Don't say a single word, or there will be consequences, and you will regret them_.

She quickly nodded her head, and then her brother Robb and another man came out from the office. Robb almost gasped when he saw his younger sister there.

"Sansa!" he exclaimed merrily. "What a happy surprise, sister! What are you doing here?!"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out of it. She had come there to tell him the truth, but she couldn't do it now, not in front of Tywin Lannister. Or maybe she could, and Robb could have him arrested or something before the man had time to call his grandson and tell him everything...

She was going to go for that option, but when she turned her head she saw that Tywin was gone. She felt her heart beating furiously out of fright, and she feared it might explode out of her chest. Was he calling Joffrey?!

She couldn't say anything. She couldn't risk it.

"I just wanted to say good bye!" she lied, just like she had lied to Tywin, but she did it more convincingly. She smiled so that her face would match her lie. She had to look happy.

"Why?"

"I'm leaving! For my honeymoon!"

"Well, that's great!" Robb exclaimed, though he was a little surprised.

"Yes... I wanted to see you before I left, so I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did surprise me. Have fun in your honeymoon, Sansa, you deserve it. Now come and give your brother a kiss."

Sansa kissed her brother on the cheek, and he did the same to her. After that they have each other a tight and affectionate hug, and Sansa left. She felt year stinging in the back of her eyes. Her only chance was gone...

She was walking down the halls when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and almost jumped, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw that the hand belonged to Tywin Lannister. The man's expression was dead serious, and not welcoming at all.

"I'm going to let this one pass, Miss Stark, and I won't tell my grandson of your indiscretion. I understand that everybody has a moment of weakness... But I will be watching you. And if I learn that you commit another indiscretion like this one I won't be so benevolent."

His words sent ice-cold shivers down her spine. She understood the message, so she quickly nodded her head to let Tywin know. Without a single word more, tywin left her alone there and dissapeared into one of the offices, and Sansa didn't lose a second in running out of the building.

She found Sandor inside the car right where she left him. He was surprised to see her coming back so early, and he immediatly started asking questions.

"What happened?" he asked when she saw that she was as pale as sheet of paper. "Was your brother there?"

"He was, now shut up and drive," she said, nearly breathless.

"What? Why? Sansa, what happened?" Sandor continued asking. He was getting worried. Sansa didn't reply, so he insisted. "Sansa, what happened?!"

 "Just drive, Sandor!" she yelled, losing her nerves.

Then Sandor looked at the entrance of the building, and he saw Tywin Lannister coming out of the building. He was talking on the phone, but he couldn't be talking to Joffrey... He had promised he wouldn't say anything to him. Could Sansa really trust him? When he saw the man, Sandor became just as pale as Sansa.

" _Oh, **fuck**_ **,"** he cursed under his breath, understanding now why Sansa was so upset and nervous. He knew that something had gonr wrong, and he didn't have to think very hard to know what it was.

Sandor started the car again, and he quickly rejoined the traffic in the middle of the road, getting as far away from there as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a looong fic, I'm not getting any of their butts saved anytime soon!


	30. Gunslinger.

Joffrey never knew about Sansa's attempt to get in touch with her brother, and she didn't try it again. Sandor wanted her to try it again, he told her that he would make sure that Robb could meet her in a private place where they could talk in peace and then everything would be resolved, but she refused. She wasn't going to do it, she wasn't going to risk everything again. She knew it was irrational, and she knew that she was being a coward, but she had already seen too many horrible things happening because of Joffrey's wrath. Sandor understood her fear better than anyone, but he tried to convince her anyways. When he saw that it was useless, that Sansa wasn't going to leave the Red Keep mansion again, he said that he would be the one to talk to her brother. Sansa forbade it. They argued for a long time, and finally Sansa won that argument. Sandor wasn't going to go against her wishes, even though he knew how much it was going to cost Sansa.

Sansa spent in her room alone the remainder of the days that she was going to be in King's Landing before she had to leave to the Caribbean with Joffrey for their honeymoon. She had already accepted the fact that she had to go, and she knew that she could do nothing against it. She wasn't going to protest.

Sandor hated to see her in that situation, but he was powerless. He thought about betraying his word and leaving at night to see soon-to-be President Stark and let him know everything that was going on there, but he knew that Sansa would never forgive him. Maybe things would work in the end, but she would never forgive him for risking everything and endangering everyone. She was strong enough to live through everything that was happening to her, and Sandor often wondered where the fuck that amazing strength came from. He wished he could have it. All that he had was physical strength, but when it came to the emotional strength that Sansa had he was the loser out of the two of them.

He received the worst news he could have received a day before Joffrey and Sansa left for their honeymoon. He was out driving Joffrey to a meeting, when suddenly his boss decided to mention to him what he had recently decided:

"Clegane, only Meryn, Boros, and Oakheart are going to come with us to the Caribbean," the soon-to-be new Vice President said. "You are going with my mother, Tommen and Myrcella to Lannisport."

"Why?" Sandor had asked, upset. He didn't want to go to Lannisport. He couldn't leave Sansa alone during her honeymoon to that bastard! He had to watch out over her, but he couldn't do that from the other side of the world!

Joffrey was annoyed with Sandor's question. Lately he was annoyed with everything.

"What do you mean, why? Because I say so! Isn't that enough!"

Sandor bit his tongue so that he wouldn't protest again and anger his boss, and he continued driving.

The next day he accompanied Joffrey and Sansa to the airport. Cersei, Tommen and Myrcella had already left King's Landing, and he was to take a plane to go to Lannisport with them. The other bodyguards were in another car, while he was in the same car as Sansa and Joffrey. He hadn't been able to properly say goodbye to Sansa, and it felt painful to realize that she was going to be away for two weeks, alone with that monster, away from him... He wanted to hold her hand, but Joffrey would see it, so he forced himself to remain silent and still and to not show any signs of affection at all.

Once they got to the airport he helped her to carry her luggage. He walked besides her through the airport, not wanting to leave her side for as long as he could. Sansa was walking without any enthusiasm, staring at her feet the whole time. Joffrey was surrounded by the other bodyguards to avoid any possible attack that could happen. They had to stop sometimes because Sansa, even though she was wearing sunglasses, was recognized by fans that walked around them. She smiled to them and said hi, and signed autographs when they asked her for them. However she didn't take any pictures with them because she didn't have time to, even though she would have loved to spend more time with all of them rather than leaving with Joffrey to catch their flight.

Joffrey and Sansa didn't board a normal plane, but a private jet instead of course. Sandor didn't board the jet and was forced to stay behind. If it wasn't suspicious or it wasn't against his nature he would have begged to go with them, just so that he could keep Sansa some company. But he couldn't do that, so he stayed silent and he watched Joffrey go inside the jet first, and then Sansa. Sandor had given her luggage to a flight attendant, but he was still holding the girl's purse. With an expression of extreme sadness in her face, Sansa extended her arm to take her purse away from Sandor. She did it slowly, gently, like she didn't really want him to let go of the purse. When she took it from him her hand softly grazed his own hand, merely touching it, sending sparks through his skin. Sandor's fingers let go of the purse, but his eyes didn't let go of Sansa. She was also staring at him; a small sad smile lightly curled her lips for a fraction of a second.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Good bye."

And then she left. She turned around and walked away from him. She didn't look back. She disappeared from sight once she entered the private jet. Sandor didn't want to wait to see if he could maybe see her behind one of the tiny windows of the jet; if he saw her one more time he would have the strength to leave, so he put his hands in his pockets and he turned around, leaving that dammed place.

He had to hurry to catch his own flight to Lannisport. He returned inside the airport and walked through crowds of people that were going to different places. He hadn't had to check any luggage because he had just brought a backpack with all the things he needed and he could go with it inside the plane. He had already gone through security before, so he just went straight to the gate that his ticket said.

He didn't have to wait a lot to board the plane. He was one of the first people to board because he was in business class (at least the Lannisters had been generous with that and he would have to spend hours seated next to some annoying fucker.) He put his backpack in the compartment above his seat, and then he say down and waited patiently until everyone was inside the plane and it was time to leave.

Once the plane was up above the clouds, Sandor got served a glass of wine. He drank it all in one sip so he had the flight attendant pour him a second one. He started drinking again while ignoring the look on the flight attendant's face, who was clearly thinking that he was some kind of alcoholic. The only think that Sandor wanted to do was drink and pass out, and like that he able to forget for a few hours... His mind kept going back to Sansa, to those last moments in which she had walked away from him. She was going to be away for two weeks, and Sandor was terrified of the state in which she might come back after spending so much time alone with Joffrey without no one to protect her. He was afraid that the little bird that had left him alone in the airport of King's Landing would not be the same little bird that returned to him in two weeks. He was afraid that those two weeks would leave more scars in her souls that added to the ones that she already had... He was afraid that she wouldn't stand it.

He realized that, since he met her that night in the concert, more than half a year ago, he hadn't spent so much time without her. They hadn't been able to be together, yes, but at least they had been in the same place and he had been able to make sure that she was okay. And she... She had transformed him. She had transformed him completely. Sandor realized in that moment how much he needed her. He felt helpless without her, knowing that she was so far away...

And that was why he drank. He managed to get a third glass of wine poured to him, but after that the flight attendant disappeared. He cursed under his breath, three glasses weren't nearly enough to give him the effect that he wanted! His head was a little heavy, but his mind was still clear and he still felt miserable.

He gave up and decided to lean back on his seat, looking outside the window. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the clouds were fluffy and white, and he despised it.  
He wanted a weather that fit his dark mood, and then maybe he wouldn't feel as if the universe was laughing at his expense, making a joke out of his feelings by showing him that to everyone else that was a nice day while he couldn't be more fucked. He looked at the sky. Its intense blue color made him remember Sansa; her eyes were almost the same color...

He groaned and looked away. He pressed his hand against his face and rubbed his closed eyes with his calloused fingers, feeling exhausted. Emotionally exhausted, not physically exhausted. He wished he was tired, then he would try to sleep a little bit, but no matter for how long he closed his eyes sleep wouldn't come to him. His mind kept bringing up an image of Sansa. He cursed under his breath and opened his eyes, and he checked the time. There four hours left until they reached Lannisport. He needed to find something to do with that time of he didn't want to go crazy...

He noticed for the first time the TV screen in the back of the seat in front of him. He dismissed the idea at first, but seconds later he decided to watch something in it. What else could he do if not?

He turned the mini TV on, and then he pressed the screen where it said _"Movies._ " More options appeared, and he looked at them. Comedy, Fantasy, Action, Drama, Kids... He decided to click on " _What's New_ " and see of there were any recent movies that awoke his interest. He wasn't a big movie fan and it was very seldom that he watched TV.

He read the titles and the descriptions, and he dismissed all of them. He didn't want to watch any stupid dramas, or silly comedies, or unrealistic fantasies or...

His finger froze right over the title of the next movie that was presented in the screen, and his eyes widened.

_**Gunslinger.** Starring Sansa Stark and Anthony Thomas._

Sandor didn't even read the description of the movie, he check on _"Watch"_ immediately after reading Sansa's name. There was a voice in the back of his head saying _"don't do it,"_ but he ignored it completely. He knew that he shouldn't watch Sansa's movie; seeing her onscreen would only be torture for him, but he couldn't help him. It was the only way that he had of seeing her again...

The movie opened with moving images of a landscape, and Sandor recognized it as the countryside of England. There was soft instrumental music playing while the names of the actors and the producers and the director and everyone else whom Sandor didn't fucking care about appeared on the screen, but he did recognize the music. It was the melody of the song that Sansa had sung at the Oscars, the one she had written. It was beautiful. After all the names were shown, a house appeared. It was a normal, decent countryside house. It was two stories high, and large enough to assume that the people loving there were accommodated, though it wasn't the place wasn't a mansion. There were stables at the right side of the house, and the neighing of horses could be heard. The house was surrounded by green fields and hills, and not very far away was a lake. It was a very pretty place.

Suddenly laughs started to be heard from inside the house. They belonged to both a man and a woman. The laughs got louder, and suddenly the front door of the house burst open and Sansa came out running from it. Sandor was shocked when he saw her because he wasn't used to see her in a movie, he had never seen her in one before. Sansa (or, well, her character,) was dressed with a long dress, and the style made Sandor think that the movie was set in the early 1900s. He hadn't paid much attention to the information on the screen before, so he wasn't sure. The dress floated behind Sansa as she ran, and so did her long and beautiful auburn curls. Sandor was watching her and then suddenly a man appeared running out of the house behind Sansa, also laughing. Sandor groaned when he saw the man. He knew that man was her costar, Anthony. He was probably in his very early thirties. He had short brown hair and huge dark eyes, and the kind of smile that girls found dashing. He ran after Sansa, who was running downhill. He caught her by the waist and they both laughed and tripped, falling and rolling downhill. When they stopped rolling at the bottom of the small green hill they continued laughing at the top of their lungs.

"John!" Sansa's character squealed, and then suddenly that John dude kissed her.

It took several minutes for Sandor to realize that he was clenching his fists so hard that he had buried his fingernails on his palms and he had cut himself. He tried to relax and to ease the anger that was building inside of him. He needed wine.

 _It's just a movie, it's just a stupid movie_ , he told himself. _It's not real._

"Oh, I love you, Alayne," the stupid John fucker said.

"And I love you," she said.

 _It's not Sansa, it's not Sansa,_ Sandor repeated over and over in his mind. _She's Alayne. She's just a fictional character. She's Alayne, not Sansa._

That thought eased his mind and his anger a bit, but he felt stupid. Really, what the fuck was he doing torturing himself like that?! Didn't he have enough with having to see Sansa be with Joffrey in real life?! Now he also had to see her with that fucking idiot in the movie!

 _There's something seriously fucking wrong with me,_ Sandor realized. He was convinced he was masochiatic tendencies, what else could explain his stupid behavior? He was making himself hurt in every possible way, but instead of shutting the TV off he continued watching the movie. Better to be able to see Sansa, even if she was kissing some fucker, than to not see her at all.

So he kept watching the movie... Alayne and John were a recently married young couple that were loving off the money that he had inherited from his deceased parents. Besides, John was a soldier. Sandor found that out when he saw that the man got a letter that called him to fight in the war that had just started overseas. There was the typical sad scene where Alayne was sad and worried, John told her that he would come back to her, and they kissed. The next morning John left, leaving Alayne alone, and Sandor felt happy.

_Yes! Leave so that I don't have to watch you two kissing anymore. And do me a favor and die in the bloody war!_

It seemed that Sandor was going to be lucky, because the next scene was a scene of the war. Guns firing, men shouting, enemies fighting, soldiers dying. Sandor had been in a war and he had to admit that the movie did a bit of justice to the chaos that was that shit. Of course, the movie couldn't fully transmit the feelings that a man felt in the battlefield, it was impossible, but it did manage to show some of the horrors of battle. The actors were good, the scenery was good, and the sound was good. In the next scene he saw John. He was with some other soldiers away from battle, doing some kind of special mission. There was suddenly an explosion that devastated everything, and screams were heard. The scene faded and Alayne appeared in her room, reading a letter. She was crying her eyes out.

 _Poor girl,_ Sandor thought. _The little bird is so used to crying in real life that she does a wonderful job faking it._

He did notice that her crying was forced, though. Other people wouldn't notice because she was an excellent actress, but he had seen Sansa during moments where she had broken down, he had seen her true despair. There was no possible way of faking that.

The movie escalated from then on. Poor Alayne couldn't catch a break. She was devastated over her husband's death, and to get things worse, her house burned to the ground. She managed to get out (of course she got out, she was one of the main characters of the movie!) Sandor felt pity for the poor girl when she lost everything and she had to start working hard as a seamstress to earn some money to survive, because there were no relatives of hers or John's that were alive to help her.

Meanwhile, much to Sandor's dislike, John was revealed to be alive. He was badly wounded and he looked like he would be dead anytime soon, but he had been saved by the people of a village that was near the place of the explosion.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

John was unconscious, but he talked in his sleep. He said Alayne's name over and over, and each time his voice was weaker. The doctor of the village said in a very dramatic time and in a language that Sandor did not understand (there were subtitles,) that John wouldn't survive the night, and that it was a miracle that he had stayed alive that long. Sandor scoffed.

 _He can die for all I care_ , he thought. He was really not rooting for the man.

Alayne was shown again in England. It had been a little over two months since John "died," and she started working, and she had saved enough money to start over again. Sandor knew that something was bound to happen as soon as he saw her smiling a little bit. That couldn't go right. It was just like in real life, everything got fucked up somehow sooner or later. In Alayne's case it was sooner, when two distant relatives decided to track her down and find her. Sandor raised his eyebrows when he saw them in the scene where they talked to Alayne. The woman was a cousin of her deceased mother, and she looked like a fat hybrid of a toad and a rat. The man, her husband, was as thin as a stick and had crazy hair, like if he had been electrocuted. His teeth were all crooked and yellowish.

For some fucking reason that Sandor did not manage to understand, Alayne decided to trust them. He could see that she was wary of them, but she was too lonely and too sad since she became a widow, and she needed the comfort of having new family.

"What the fuck?!" Sandor muttered, this time out loud.

And of course, just as he had guessed, things went very wrong. The two crazy relatives were poor as rats, and they lived in a place that looked more like a pigsty than anything else. Alayne didn't care, she was too tired and she fell asleep on the dirty bed. During the night the two crazy relatives stole all her money and left her alone in that place, again without a single penny.

"Told you..." Sandor muttered under his breath, again out loud.

But things didn't stop there. When morning came, the landlord showed up! The crazy relatives hadn't payed the rent of the last two months, and the enraged man wanted the money. Alayne woke up started and found herself alone. She thought that maybe her relatives had left for a little while, but when she went to get money to pay the man to do them a favor she found that the money was all gone. She tried to explain to the landlord, but the man kicked her out to the street like a dog. Sandor wanted to throw himself inside the movie and beat the bloody shit out of the man when he saw the way in which he treated the little bird.

 _It's only a movie!_ he reminded himself.

So poor Alayne found herself alone and poor again.

The movie cut to John again, who had miraculously survived and healed and was now much better. He spent around five minutes saying that he had to go home to his wife. He asked about how he met her and fell in love, and about how she was the most important thing for him in the world and missed her more than he could possibly ever miss anything else. Sandor had no patience for that kind of sentimentalities, but he didn't make any comments. He supposed that he, now that he was so madly in love with Sansa, was just as stupid and folkish more times than he cared to admit.

John was about to leave the village when (surprise, surprise!) it was attacked. John got up and picked up his gun, which the villagers had brought to the village when they found him half dead at the site of the explosion. He started shooting and killing the attackers, which were the enemies in the war in which he was fighting. Soldiers from his own army arrived to the village, and a huge battle commenced. There were guns firing everywhere, and men getting shot everywhere. John fought with all his might, killing enemies and saving villagers, until he was shot and he fell to the ground. He stared at the sky above him and whispered the name of his beloved wife before closing his eyes.

 _Did he die?_ Sandor wondered. He didn't care. He just wanted to see Alayne again.

The next scene showed her. She was living in the street, and she looked like shot. Sandor had never thought that Sansa could ever look like that, but apparently Alayne could. Her hair was dirty and tangled, her eyes were staring to the void, empty, her face was blackened with dirt and soot and smoke and dust. She was dressed in dirty rags, and she was sitting in a corner of the sidewalk. People walked past her, some ignoring her, some glancing at her with pity. A child brought her a piece of bread, and said that she was too pretty to be there. Alayne smiled kindly and thanked him, then ate the bread while the child ran away to join his father. Alayne was distracted, deep in her own thoughts, when she heard people calling for volunteers to help take care of the wounded in the war. She stood up from the filthy corner where she had been sitting and went to present herself as a volunteer.

In the next scene she was somewhat cleaned up, and she was dressed in some kind of nurse-like outfit, with a white apron and a hat. Her hair was in a bun and it didn't look so messy anymore, and her face was clean. She was serving soup to the wounded soldiers that had been brought to London from the war, and she was being very kind and gentle with all of them. Sandor could imagine Sansa acting like that in real life.

John was there. Sandor didn't care anymore. He figured that after the shot months that the two characters had lived they deserved something better. Alayne wasn't far from where he was, but she was too busy attending to the other soldier, and he couldn't see her because he had a bandage over his eyes.

 _If after all this the movie ends like shit, I will find and shoot the director,_ Sandor thought.

One of the soldiers, who was missing both legs, asked Alayne to sing a song for him. He was very sick, and he just wanted to hear something pretty. Sandor could see the sadness in Alayne's eyes, the pity and the sorrow for the lives that had been destroyed of those poor man. Eager to please, she started singing, and Sandor gasped. It was the song...

 _"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_  
save our sons from war, we pray,  
stay the swords and stay the arrows,  
let them know a better day.  
Gentle Mother, strength of women,  
help our daughters through this fray,  
soothe the wrath and tame the fury,  
teach us all a kinder way".

Her voice was as clear and soft as a stream coming down from the mountains, as pure as the sound of an angel choir, and carried over the rest if the noise in the infirmary as strong as the wind, reaching every corner, every ear of every man. Her voice was a mixture of emotions. It could be as joyful as the laughter of children in summer, or as sad as the paint of a thousand souls in despair.

John heard the voice of his wife and recognized her. He called her name and she heard him. She searched for him and found him, and he took his bandage off and saw her too. She ran to him in tears and they reunited...

...But Sandor wasn't paying attention to the movie anymore, he didn't care. He was just watching her, watching Sansa, and he couldn't stop hearing her voice in his head, that voice that had bewitched and captivated him the first time that he ever heard her sing... Sansa's voice was both a torture and a gift to him.

He realized then that he was crying. He wasn't just shedding tears, he was bawling like a baby who needed his mother. And the worst thing was that he couldn't stop.

He knew that people were looking at him funny. A flight attendant approached him.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yes, I'm fucking fine," he rasped angrily. He wiped the years off his face with the sleeve of his shirt and then he stood up from his seat and moved the flight attendant out of the way. He needed to go to the bathroom, and try there to stop crying like a baby. He wanted people to stop staring at him.

He had never felt so angry. But above all, he had never felt more embarrassed.


	31. Different Kinds of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to lower Sandor age to 36. 44 worked well for the background story but it was too much, so now he's 9 years older than Joffrey and 11 years older than Sansa.
> 
> I'll change the story so that Sandor did know Joffrey since the brat was a baby, and grew up knowing Sandor and the poor man (teen) was sometimes used as an improvised nanny, and then when Sandor was older became the bodyguard of pre-teen/teen Joffrey.

Sandor managed to fall asleep during the rest of the flight, but it was a restless sleep. When he woke up, seconds before the plane landed on the runway of the airport in Lannisport, his neck hurt and his back hurt and he had a headache. He felt like shit.

When the gates opened he picked up his bag and he left the plane. He walked through the airport all the way towards the exit, and then once he was out he went to the parking lot. Joffrey had told him that they were going to send someone to pick him up at the airport, though he would have preferred to rent a car and drive. However, in the conditions in which he was in at the moment, perhaps driving wasn't the best idea.

He looked around, trying to see if he could find whatever idiot the Lannisters had sent to pick him up...

"Sandor!" a roaring voice called him from far away at his left.

He turned around to face the person that had called him, and he paled right after seeing him. It must be a fucking joke... His day was already shitty enough with everything that he had had to deal with, and now the fuckers sent his brother to pick him up?!

Gregor stood like a giant in the parking lot; he was much taller than all the cars around him, so it looked like they were toys. The car he was driving was a huge black SUV, fit for his size. It would be ridiculous if Gregor tried to drive any other car because he didn't fit in them. He was wearing his bodyguard suit, and Sandor couldn't see his expression behind the dark sunglasses. He figured that his brother was having a lot of fun trying to come up with ways of torturing him. Sandor wanted to turn around and leave Gregor there and take a cab to Casterly Rock. He preferred to walk all the way to the bloody mansion instead of having to suffer through a car ride with his brother. But he was too tired and he felt that he would collapse to the ground at any moment, he couldn't walk all that... Besides, he didn't have money for a cab.

"Fuck my life..." he muttered under his breath, feeling even angrier than before.

Neither one of them said hello to the other when Sandor approached the car and entered it. He could hear his brother scoffing, and he tried his best to ignore Gregor when he for inside the car as well.

"You look like shit," Gregor said. "Like always, really. But today you look worse, I didn't think that was possible!"

"Just shut up and drive," Sandor grunted.

Gregor laughed under his breath as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, driving towards the exit that let to the road.

It wasn't a long way from the airport to Casterly Rock, just about twenty minutes. It wouldn't have been an awful ride if Gregor had decided to leave his younger brother in peace and shut his mouth, but he was Gregor. Gregor couldn't miss an opportunity to make his brother uncomfortable. Gregor was usually despicably cruel to Sandor, but there wasn't a lot of ways in which he could be like that while he was driving. Gregor was better with violence than he was with words, so he usually preferred to fight Sandor. However, at that moment he was driving, so he only talked.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" he wondered while he drove in the highway. "Is it because your boss quicker you like the dog you are and sent you here instead of taking you with him?"

Sandor didn't reply. He was looking outside the window, hoping that maybe Gregor would leave him alone. But Gregor didn't shut up.

"No, I know, I know..." he laughed lowly, his voice cruel and cold. "It's because he took his wife with him, isn't it?"

Sandor tensed up after he heard his brother say that, and he started feeling the familiar feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach. He remembered when Gregor had gone to pick Sansa and him up from the isle of Tarth. Sandor had arrived right when Gregor was saying something to Sansa, and though he didn't hear everything, he did hear something that had greatly worried him. Had his brother figured anything out? Did he know anything about him and Sansa? He must have guessed something, because if not why would he be making that comment? Unless it was just a lucky guess, of course...

Gregor sensed Sandor's discomfort, and laughed. It only made Sandor feel worse.

"I've seen the way you look at her, like she's some sweet cupcake ready to be devoured. And who can blame you?! I've seen her too, and she looks..." Gregor took a moment to slowly kick his lips, "delicious..."

"Touch her, and I will cut your hands off and pull your eyes out," Sandor rasped.

"Relax, brother! I can't touch her. But well, neither can you."

Sandor decided that the best thing that he could do would be to ignore his brother and try to not worsen his mood, though it had already been foul the entire day. They were approaching the coast, and the SUV was already driving up the road that lead to the cliff where Casterly Rock mansion was, and Sandor could not wait to get there and be able to get out of the car and get as far away from his brother as he possibly could. He wished he could spend the rest of the trip to the mansion in peace, but Gregor wasn't going to allow it.

"I've been wondering..." he murmured in a dark tone of voice that scared Sandor. He knew his brother didn't have anything good in mind, "what you two were doing alone in that island..."

"Joffrey sent me to watch over her."

"Was that all you did?"

"What...? Fuck off, Gregor."

 _"Don't talk to me like that, **pup,**_ " Gregor spat. There, the dangerous and violent, aggressive, short-tempered Gregor was coming a little bit to the surface. Sandor had been terrified of his brother when he was younger, and now, even though he was an adult, he still didn't want to anger him. He remembered once when he made Gregor angry... He had called him pup that day too. He remembered the smell of gasoline, the heat of fire, the pain of melting flesh...

Gregor knew that Sandor was afraid of him, and he loved it. Sandor hated him even more for it. He could see his brother smirking from the corner of his eye, and he wished he was somewhere far away from there.

"So as I was saying," Gregor continued saying, "I wonder what you two did. The girl is beautiful, but she looks desperate. I did notice how happy she was when she thought that it was you who was in the room, not me... No one would be stupid enough to sleep with the Governor's wife. You have never been very bright, but you are not _that_ stupid," he said, making Sandor want to punch him in the head. It was better that Gregor though that nothing had happened, though he cursed his brother's ability to always know what was going on in Sandor's life. If he said anything... But he could have said it much earlier, and he hadn't. Gregor enjoyed having delicate information about his brother that he had discovered himself. "Did she suck your cock? She definitely looks desperate enough to do that to a dog like you."

"Will you fucking shut up?!" Sandor barked, not being able to hold back anymore.

Gregor stopped the car in the front gate of Casterly Rock and Sandor opened the door and got off the vehicle before it had even completely stopped. He took his bag and was waking towards the mansion, wanting to go inside and forget his brother and his words, both mocking and cruel at the same time. He wanted to forget everything, he wanted to forget how devastated he had been in the plane, how broken he had felt when he saw Sansa walking away after saying goodbye...

"Maybe I'll have her suck my cock too!" he heard Gregor saying from behind him. "It doesn't matter of she's willing or not, I can fix that easily."

Sandor saw red. He dropped his bag to the floor, and then he turned around and punched his brother, who had been following him to the house, right in the face. The blow made Gregor take a few steps back, and Sandor saw his brother's expression change from amused to completely shocked. Sandor had almost never dared to touch Gregor, he had always been too afraid... He didn't care able that anymore, not after hearing Gregor saying what he had just said about Sansa. Sandor wouldn't tolerate it. He wouldn't.

Blood ran down Gregor's nose to his chin. He touched his nose with his hand and hissed in pain. He looked at the blood that stained his fingers, and then he stared at his younger brother. Sandor saw Gregor's grey eyes, almost identical to his, darken with rage. He knew he shouldn't have done that, the Gregor that he feared had come to the surface. He didn't care. He really didn't care anymore.

"You fucking little shit," his brother muttered before throwing a punch to Sandor's head. Sandor was expecting it and he dodged it, and he used that movement to throw a punch to his brother's stomach. Gregor was huge, so he was an easy target.

However, Gregor's gigantic size was also his most powerful weapon, and he was bloody quick and agile for a person that big and heavy. Sandor couldn't dodge his next blow.

Gregor's fist collided against Sandor's face. Sandor was big and strong and a great fighter, but his older brother was a giant, and his brute force threw Sandor on his back to the ground. There was a sharp pain all over his face cause by the punch he had received. While he was lying on his back on the ground he turned his head to the side and spat blood, and before he could stand up Gregor was over him. His brother anger had completely reached the surface, and he had partly become the monster that Sandor had learned to fear as a child. Gregor grabbed Sandor by the collar of his shirt, and Sandor felt again like the defenseless child that he had been many years ago. It was always like that when it came to his brother, even though he had learned to fight back with the years.

Gregor raised his arm and punched Sandor in the face again. Sandor didn't make a sound, and he remained silent even as Gregor punched him again. Sandor was covered in blood that came from his mouth, and blood that dripped from Gregor's nose, and he was also covered in dirt and dust from the ground. He felt a burning pain in the jaw, where Gregor had punched him. His brother's face was a twisted mask of viciousness and cruelty. His skin was red and his veins were big and swollen, and his eyes were wide open; Sandor could see in them how much Gregor enjoyed what he was doing.

"Maybe I'll have her cunt too!" Gregor spat in Sandor's face, right before punching him again. "I bet it's fucking sweet and tight!"

That was what made Sandor completely snap. He roared, forgetting how numb he felt and forgetting about the pain, and he grabbed his brother's jacket to bring him closer to him. When Gregor's face was a few inches away from him, Sandor slammed his head against Gregor's. Gregor howled in pain and fell back, his dark expression replaced by that of shock. He took a few steps back, and Sandor seized the opportunity to stand back on his feet. Before Gregor could recover, Sandor went over to where his brother was and punched him in the face with all his strength and taking out his full rage on him.

Gregor lost his balance and fell on his back like Sandor had done before him. While he was lying there, Sandor kicked his brother in the gut. He didn't feel joy or satisfaction when he heard Gregor howling in pain again as his foot slammed into his brother's stomach. He was too mad, too furious to feel anything else other than the desperate need to kill Gregor...

He was about to kick Gregor again, but the man managed to grab his leg and twist it. Sandor fell to the ground again with a grunt. His chin hit the ground, and drops of blood fell to the ground. Gregor was about to attack him again when both brothers heard a voice angrily yelling:

_**"CLEGANE!"** _

They both stopped fighting and looked up. Tyrion Lannister had come out of the mansion and he was walking towards them, looking terribly angry. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, and his expression was of disapproval. The brothers didn't know to whom it was that the man was yelled at. Perhaps it was to both of them.

 _"What is the meaning of this?!_ " Tyrion hissed, stopping in front of them while both men, who were like giants next to him, stood up. "This is outrageous! Fighting like animals in front of the Lannister mansion, with everyone inside, even children! I should have both your asses fired right this moment!"

"You are not my boss, dwarf," Gregor spat.

"No, but I could have a very interesting conversation with him. I'm sure he will love to know what was happening here," Tyrion said with sarcasm. "Now, what on Earth was going on?"

"We are brothers," Gregor said with the same sarcastic tone that Tyrion had used. "Brothers fight."

"Oh, what are you now, 12? Get lost, Clegane," Tyrion said, and he wasn't going to say it again. Gregor didn't listen to people, but Tyrion was a Lannister and he worked for the Lannisters, so he obeyed. He was happy, though. Sandor could see how angry his brother was as he turned their back on them and left.

Now Sandor was standing in front of Tyrion alone, and the little man's angry glare was directed to him.

"Well?" Tyrion asked, as if he was expecting Sandor to give him an explanation.

Sandor shook off the dust and dirt off his jacket and them he shrugged. His face and jaw hurt, but he was sure that the pain was worse than how it looked, or at least he hoped so. He couldn't go walking around with his face looking like a punching bag. That was the last thing he needed, the scars were already bad enough.

"We were just fighting," he said.

"I could see that."

"I was nothing," Sandor insisted.

He knew that Tyrion Lannister didn't believe him, but he didn't push the subject. Sandor was grateful for that because he wasn't in the mood. That day was definitely turning out to be the worst day that he had had on years.

"Alright," Tyrion sighed. He knew that it was useless to argue with a headstrong Clegane. "Go inside and clean up. Have the rest of the day for yourself. And try that no one sees you like that."

Sandor thanked him, and Tyrion left. Sandor picked up the bag that he had dropped and then he went inside the mansion. He needed a shower, and a few good hours of sleep... _if_ he could get any.

* * *

 

Sansa had never been in a cruise ship, and she was fascinated when she arrived on it. After the flight, a chauffeur had picked her and Joffrey up and took them from the airport to the docks, where they boarded the gigantic ship. Sansa wished they hadn't had to go directly to the ship, she would have liked to see the city for a day and maybe rest a little bit, the flight had been very long and very tiring. They had travelled to New Orleans, which was the city where the cruise was going to start. She had never been in New Orleans and she wanted to see it because she had heard wonderful things about the city. However, Joffrey had other plans, and he had booked the flight the same day that they had to board the ship. That hadn't been a very intelligent idea. What if the plane had been delayed? But of course Sansa wouldn't have complained about that. She didn't want to go on that cruise with her husband anyway...

The ship was gigantic. She had seen cruise ships in the docks in King's Landing sometimes, but she had never seen one that close! And she had never been in one! When she crossed the gangway and arrived in the majestic it and arrived in the majestic atrium she managed to forget about everything and she stood there in awe. It was six decks high, and Sansa smiled when she saw the elevator with glass walls going up and down. There were spiral staircases that led to the three lowest levels, and the people who walked up and down the stairs wore fancy clothes and colorful dresses and fine jewelry; everyone on that cruise was exquisite. The lowest level of the atrium served as a gathering area for the guests. There were two dining halls, a bar, a show lounge, and some shops. On other levels there were more ships, more dining halls, restaurants, clubs, bars, and many more things. Music played to greet the guests.

Sansa felt like she could get lost in that place and never be found again. She had managed to forget the real reason why she was there, and for a second she was happy, and she was a fool, and she thought that maybe she could enjoy staying in that place...

She turned around, thinking for only a fraction of a second that she would find someone there that she would actually want to see, but the smile disappeared from her face when she saw Joffrey. Then she remembered why she was there. That was her honeymoon. That was her hell.

How could she ever enjoy her time there? It would be impossible.

She followed Joffrey to their cabin. It looked like a deluxe apartment, and Sansa would have been delighted to stay there had she been with better company. The cabin had a full wall of glass that led to a balcony. It was located on one of the upper decks, and the views were fantastic. Because the ship hadn't sailed yet, the views they got were of New Orleans. Sansa walked outside to the balcony to have a better look at the city. It was indeed beautiful. She heard the voices of the crowd rising up to her ears, and she thought that everyone sounded happy and joyful. She wished she could be like them...

The first day was easy. Joffrey and her were exhausted from the long flight, so they fell flat on the bed after the staff brought all their things to the cabin, and they slept the entire day. Sansa was so tired that for once she was able to sleep beside her husband for hours and hours without having a single nightmare.

When she woke up the next morning, the ship was already set sail. She felt sad because she wished that she could have been looking while they left the city and ventured into the ocean, but now they were in their way to the Caribbean and it was too late. She saw that Joffrey was still sleeping- snoring, actually- on the other side of the bed so she was careful not to wake him up. She hoped that he would stay asleep for many more hours and he would leave her alone.

Sansa took a quick shower and then she changed into a black bikini and she put on a white sundress and left the cabin. She went to the top of the cruise ship, where the outer swimming pools, slides, jacuzzis and other things were. She thought she might want to go to the swimming pool later, but for the moment she chose to just walk around the ship a little. She wanted to clear her mind and relax, and get lost like she had wanted to do the day before. She was starving, but she ignored the roaring of her tummy. The thought of food made her sick.

She wasn't surprised when she saw men with cameras around, trying to find her. In Westeros the press had already found out that the new Vice President and her, the Oscar-winning pop star and sister of the new President, were on their honeymoon in that cruise, so of course that they had hurried to get tickets in the same cruise to follow them around and get good pictures. Sansa usually didn't mind the cameras, but that was too much. She didn't want people to see pictures of hell during that torment.

She put her hair in a ponytail to drag less attention to it, but she had forgotten her sunglasses so she was easily recognizable. She could see from the corner of her eyes that the paparazzi had spotted her, and so had other people in the cruise, and they were all looking at her and taking pictures. She just ignored them all.

 _They all think I am happy_ , she thought with a bit of bitterness. _It's not their fault. They believe my life is perfect. They want to be like me._

For some reason that thought pained her. How could people be so blind? Or was she really that good at pretending? The thought that she could manage to be to fake also hurt her. That wasn't her. She hadn't been a good liar when she was little, she had always been a terrible liar. People often told her that, but she didn't mind. She never wanted to be a liar, she liked the truth... But life had made her like that.

Maybe that was another one of the reasons that brought her closer to Sandor in the first place. He hated lies. He always told the truth, or at least he did until he met her and he had had to start to lie. She wished she could tell the truth and stop lying. She needed some truth in her life, less lies... Those lies that were suffocating her.

Sansa went to the railing of the deck. She could see other decks from there, and she could see the ocean. It's water was deep blue, and it sparkled under the sun. She thought she saw some dolphins in the distance, but maybe she was mistaken. Either way, she smiled. The view was beautiful, and she was so peaceful at that moment, alone there... Sansa wished it could be like that more often.

She was there, leaning on the railing, watching the ocean around the ship, when suddenly she felt two hands holding her waist. She gasped, startled, and she turned around to face the person that had grabbed her. Her heart suck when she saw Joffrey standing there, smirking.

"Good morning," he said in a mocking tone. He knew he had scared her, and he knew that Sansa was not glad to see him there. "Sleep well?"

"Y-yes, very well..." Sansa muttered. She could see the paparazzi going wild taking pictures in the distance, fascinated to be able to take pictures of the couple.

"Don't worry about them, they are just doing their job..." Joffrey said. He had also seen the paparazzi, but he was not the least bit bothered by them. He was probably enjoying their presence and the fact that they were immortalizing how he slowly tortured Sansa, even though they didn't know that. "Do too like the ship?"

Sansa gulped and nodded slowly.

"Yes... I like it," she said, not knowing what else to say. It was true, she liked the ship... She just didn't like what she was in it for.

"Good," Joffrey murmured. He ran his hands up and down Sansa's arms, and she shuddered in disgust. Then he put his hands on her waist again, and stepped closer to her. "We are going to have a lot of fun in this ship. Aren't we?"

Sansa gulped, and fought the urge to vomit. She nodded again, but she didn't say anything. Joffrey continued smiling

"That's my good wife... Now kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me," he repeated, tightening his hold on her waist to the point where it was painful, and he made her gasp. "Kiss me like you love me. Come on, do it for the cameras. You are an actress, aren't you?"

She was. She was an actress, and a good one. And she knew what Joffrey wanted. He wanted a show, a spectacle. He wanted to offer the world the image that he had the perfect marriage and he wanted to seize that moment now that the cameras were right there, ready to take hundreds of pictures. Sansa sighed. She knew that she had to do it. She looked at Joffrey's eyes, and remembered all the pain that he had inflicted on her, all the misery... He had killed her father, he had killed Theon. Everything was his fault. She hated him... But she also knew that of she wanted to get out of that situation alive, then she had a role to play. And she had to play it to perfection.

 _I am an actress,_ she reminded herself to gain some courage.

So she closed her eyes and kissed Joffrey. He kissed her back, and Sansa managed not to pull away and throw up over the railing. She continued kissing him, even when he stuck his tongue in her mouth. She kept her eyes closed the entire time, not wanting to see him. She didn't want to feel him either, so she tried to blocked her senses. It was useless, it appeared that all the nerves on her body were awake that morning. She was holding on to the railing in fear that she might break down and fall.

 _"Kiss me like you love me,_ " Joffrey had said. He had never said that before. She had never kissed him like that, it had been impossible. But if he had asked for it then it was no less that he wanted. He wanted a satisfactory result for the cameras, and he would be angry if Sansa's performance didn't reach the level he wanted.

Sansa made her best effort to comply. She threw her arms around Joffrey's neck, and her body was suddenly closer to Joffrey's. He was wearing a thin shirt, and she was wearing only the sundress over the bikini, so she could almost feel his skin. It was repulsive. She felt Joffrey's hands moving around her waist, her hips, her back... Not in a loving way, like Sandor's hands did. Joffrey's hands were possessive, they imprisoned her.

With her eyes closed she tried her best effort to imagine that it was Sandor that she was kissing... She hoped that maybe then she could make it look like the kiss she was giving Joffrey was one of love... But it was impossible. How could she ever try to fake something that came to her so naturally when she was with Sandor? Something like that could never be faked. So she couldn't kiss Joffrey like she loved him. She did the best thing she could, though.

They parted when they both were out of breath, and Sansa was thankful for that. She could r hVe stood one more second kissing that man... Joffrey was panting, and Sansa could see in his face that he had liked it...

She stole one quick glance to the cameras. They had indeed gone crazy taking pictures.

"That's it," Joffrey murmured, putting a finger under her chin so that He would look at him. "My pretty, obedient wife..."

He leaned in for another kiss. Sansa allowed him to kiss her, but this time she did something different. She did something bold.

She bit Joffrey hard on the lip, so hard that she tasted the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, and she heard Joffrey cursing in pain. He pulled away from him and she saw with satisfaction the drops of blood on his lips and the look of shock on his face. He was also annoyed... but not angry. Sansa had seldom seen Joffrey surprise with one of her actions.

He didn't yell or say anything to her. He couldn't have done it in public even if he had wanted to, but she didn't see anger in his face. Joffrey licked the blood off his lip, and then he touched it and looked at his hand while frowning. When he looked back at Sansa she just stared at him in silence.

"I expect to see you tonight," was all Joffrey said. "And I want you to look perfect."

"But."

"You _will_ be there," he muttered, and that time he did sound a bit angry. Sansa stared at him again.

"I _will_ be there," she nodded, but there was something in her voice... Defiance, maybe.

 _You won't break me,_ she said with silent words. _You can try, but you won't. I won't allow you to._

With one last look at her, Joffrey turned around and left, leaving Sansa alone. She would have peace... At least until nightfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no way in hell I'm describing anything of what happens with Joffrey and Sansa. Nope. Absolutely no.


	32. Oceans Apart Day After Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I haven't gone back yet to make the changes to the story in the parts where it speaks about Sandor's past as Joffrey's bodyguard. I just have to change it and say that even though he had always known him he started being Joff's bodyguard when the brat was 12 instead of 4. That is still a lot of time, in my opinion. 
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx. I couldn't stop thinking about that song while writing the second part of this chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sandor returned to the Casterly Rock mansion after having been several hours running errands in Lannisport. It had already been a week since he arrived in Casterly Rock, a week since Sansa and Joffrey had left... Sandor tried to keep himself as busy as he could to try to take his mind off them, but he couldn't. Every five minutes Sansa appeared in his mind again to torment him, and he wondered, full of dread, how she would be. Was she fine? That was a stupid question, of course. How could she be fine? But he wanted to think that she was better than the voice in the back if his head told him that she was. He didn't know how he was going to go by one more week without seeing her, without speaking to her, without knowing anything about her. He had heard some of the Lannisters saying that they had talked with Joffrey on the phone and that everything was fine, but he couldn't believe them.

Sandor entered the mansion and closed the door behind him, and he immediately heard voices coming from the parlor. He wasn't going to see who was there, it was none of his business, he just wanted to go to his room. He walked towards the staircase at the end of the hall, but when he did so he crossed in front of the open door of the parlor, and Governor Tywin Lannister called him. Sandor entered the parlor and walked towards the couch where the elder Lannister was sitting.

"Sir," Sandor said, bowing his head a little bit.

"Did you do what I told you?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good."

It was just then that Sandor noticed who was there with Governor Lannister. His daughter Cersei sat next to him on the couch, and his son Tyrion was sitting alone on an armchair. Jaime wasn't there because he was not in the city. In the couch in front of Tywin and Cersei were sitting three of the Tyrells: Margaery, her brother Loras, and their grandmother Olenna. Sandor was greatly surprised when he saw that Margaery's belly was flat; she was no longer pregnant.

"Hello, Sandor," Margaery said to him with a big smile. She had seen the man so many times with Joffrey that she acted friendly to him now. He said hello back to her, and then he greeted the other two Tyrells.

He didn't know what they were doing there, though he supposed that they were visiting because the Lannisters and Tyrells had been very close recently. Of course, being just a bodyguard, he didn't ask nor did he expect to receive any explanations. He didn't want them anyways.

He excused himself and left the parlor. He walked up the stairs and went to the second floor, where his room was at the end of the hall. He was walking there when suddenly he heard voices coming from one of the biggest guest rooms, not far from where he was. He decided to ignore them but he froze when he heard the cry of a baby.

He stared at the door of the room from which the sound was coming from. He could hear the voices again, and he was pretty sure that they were trying to hush the baby. The baby continued crying, and Sandor decided to go to the room. He opened the door and went inside the room, startling the two people leaning over the crib that was in front of the large bed.

"Oh, Sandor, it's you!" Tommen exclaimed happily when he saw the bodyguard. Then he pointed inside the crib. The noise was even worse inside the room that it had been in the hallways. The cries of the baby were loud and high-pitched and made Sandor want to cover his ears.

"Bloody hell, what is going on here?!" he exclaimed.

Tommen pointed a finger inside the crib while his sister Myrcella kept trying to hush the baby by rocking the crib.

"Look! It's out new cousin!" he said. "Come closer!"

Sandor didn't know of he was even allowed to be in the room, but he approached the crib anyways and he looked inside it. There was a baby, no older than a few weeks old. He was tiny and his face was red from all the screaming he was doing, and he kicked his little legs and arms furiously. He was wearing a green onesie with golden flowers. He had a single strand of dark brown curly hair on the too of his head, and dark blue eyes.

 _That's Joffrey's son,_ Sandor realized, surprised. He didn't know the kid had been born already, and he hadn't expected to meet him that day. He was really surprised, and all he could do was stare at the screaming baby with his eyebrows raised and his eyes very open. _He doesn't look at all like a Lannister._

"Sandor, you have experience with babies!" Myrcella said, sounding desperate. "Make him stop crying!"

"What?! No," he said. Were they crazy?! He wasn't going to hold the baby!

"Please! Look at him, he's so red! Dad told us that when we were babies you held us and we liked you. He said you were good with babies!"

"That's true!" Tommen nodded, supporting his older sister. "Our uncles also told us! You took care of us sometimes!"

Sandor remembered. His family had been close to the Lannisters, so he had known them all since he was a young child. He remembered seeing Joffrey for the first time when the brat was just newborn. His mother was too tired to hold him and his father too drunk, and the kid had been screaming at the top of his lungs. Sandor, who had been just nine at the moment, had decided to take matters into his own hands and picked the screaming baby Joffrey in his arms. Joffrey had shut up immediately. He held the kid many times after that, and when he was older and he was already working for the Lannisters and the Baratheons and looking after Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen had been born. Their parents had required many times of him to help them with the kids when there were no nannies available. Sandor changed diapers, given baths, fed the babies, and searched for pacifiers in all corners of the mansion when they were lost. He had also stayed awake at night many times because the damn babies wouldn't let him sleep with all the noise that they made, and the cries reverberated within the walls of the mansion. It had been ridiculous. It had been more than a decade and a half since he had had to take care of a baby, and he certainly did not miss it. He didn't miss it at all. He should have been paid extra money for all the times he had had to find himself reduced to work as a fucking nanny for the Baratheon children.

The baby continued screaming after he refused to pick him up, and he cursed under his breath. He should have stayed out of the mansion for longer.

" _Ok, ok!_ " he exclaimed, leaning over the crib. "Come here."

Sandor picked the baby up. He seemed to calm down a little bit when he was picked up from the crib, were he had seemed to be uncomfortable. Holding the child in his arms, Sandor paced around the room. After walking three times around the room, the kid finally shut up.

"See?!" Myrcella exclaimed with triumph. Both she and Tommen watched Sandor and the baby with delight. "He likes you! You are good with babies."

Sandor scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he continued pacing around the room. It was nice now that it was quiet; he had thought that his head was going to explode because of the baby's screams. Sandor looked down at the babe, who was now sleepily looking at him with his dark blue eyes. Maybe they would change of color when he grew up. He looked like a very nice baby when he was quiet and his face was red and swollen like a balloon because of all the screaming.

"His name is Garrett," Tommen told him. "Garrett Renly Baratheon. It's sad that our uncle couldn't meet him..."

 _Your uncle might not have gotten to meet him, but your brother certainly will,_ Sandor thought then. It was strange, holding Joffrey's son in his arms. He never thought he would do that.

He supposed that Tywin and Cersei knew that the kid, Garrett, was truly Joffrey's son, and not Renly's. It was obvious that it wasn't Renly's, though. Renly had been gay and he had no interest in women at all, he only had eyes for Loras Tyrell. The reason why he married Margaery was purely political, nothing more.

Did Joffrey know that he was already a father? Most likely yes, because the baby had been born shortly before the new Vice President left. Sandor wondered if Joffrey would love the babe. He knew Joffrey enough to know that he didn't love anyone, but perhaps his son...

 _Don't try to fool yourself,_ Sandor told himself while he kept looking at Garrett's dark blue eyes, which were half closed at the moment. _Joffrey will always be a monster. He has never been a good person and I doubt that he will be a good father._

Poor kid. He hadn't had any luck with the father that had been assigned for him. Sandor pitied him. He knew what it was like to have shifty and psychotic relatives, and he didn't wish it upon anyone, much less an innocent lad like him. He hoped that at least his mother would take good care of him.

 _He seems better behaved than Joffrey, and even than Tommen and Myrcella_ , he thought while he looked how the baby yawned. He remembered that Joffrey would scream a lot more, and even Tommen and Myrcella were difficult babies sometimes. Sandor recalled with not so much amusement one time when he had to help feed them when they were already a bit older, and he had ended up with baby food thrown all over him. Gods, he had forgotten all about that. He did remember that it was such a relief when he went back to working as a serious bodyguard for Mr. Baratheon!

"I do hope you behave better than your cousins did when they were your age," Sandor said to the Garrett then. He sounded ridiculous. What was he doing talking to a baby?! "Cause I won't tolerate you the same shit that I tolerated them. Understood?"

There was silence. Garrett blinked.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Maybe Sansa will have a baby, and you can take care of him too!" Myrcella said then. "Like how you did with us!"

There had been a small smile appearing in Sandor's face, but it disappeared immediately after he heard the young girl said that. The same image that had tormented him during the wedding reception of Sansa and Joffrey months ago appeared in his mind again, but this time it was worse. Before he had imagined Sansa pregnant, just like Margaery had been at the moment, but now he imagined something else. He imagined a baby, just as tiny as the one he was holding, but instead of looking like Garrett that baby was blond with green eyes. He looked completely like a Lannister. Then he saw that same kid but a little older, and his features were like Sansa's.

He shook his head trying to get rid of that image, but it wouldn't go away. Lately, that image was his worse fear. Would Sansa end up like Margaery and give Joffrey a second son? Would he be forced to care for the child and later look after him, like he had done all those years with Joffrey? Sandor did not know if he would be able to stand it if he was forced to stand there and watch as Joffrey and Sansa formed a family? It was the worst kind of torture that he could think of...

Sandor wondered something then. If Sansa did end up giving Joffrey a child, then how would he feel about that child? Would he despite him for being Joffrey's child? Or would he love him for being Sansa's child?

Sandor didn't know, he couldn't be sure. It was too hard to think about that. Too painful.

"I... don't know," Sandor said, turning his attention back to the baby in his arms.

He heard steps then, and Margaery Tyrell entered the room. She was very surprised by seeing Sandor holding her baby, and he was about to apologize for doing that without her permission (he never apologized for anything, but he knew he shouldn't take a baby without the mother's permission,) but Margaery suddenly smiled and approached him.

"I didn't know you liked babies!" she exclaimed, still surprised. She was looking at her son with a loving expression.

"I don't," Sandor said immediately.

"Sure you don't. Look at that, you two are so cute!"

"Yeah, whatever..." Sandor muttered, annoyed. "He was crying, so I just held him. He's sleeping now."

Garrett woke up all of a sudden, and he made a strange noise. Sandor frowned, and right after that he smelled something awful. He wrinkled his nose.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he cursed, realizing what had happened. He immediately handed Garrett to his mother, who was laughing loudly. Sandor hadn't changed a diaper in more than a decade and a half, and he wasn't about to start doing it again.

* * *

 

Sansa walked through the ship distractedly, passing in front of shops and clubs and other places that were inside the gigantic ship. She had managed to get away from Joffrey after dinner, which they had spent in a rather large table with the captain of the ship and other important people that were also in the cruise. After Sansa got away from her husband she found a way to get rid of her bodyguard too. It was easy to sneak away from Arys Oakheary, specially with all the people that were there. All that it took was one second and one quick movement and Sansa disappeared. Now all she wanted was to find a nice place to spend a peaceful time in the ship, away from her cabin.

The week had gone by slowly for Sansa. Those days that she had passed there... they had been bad. They had been very bad, and she wanted to forget them. But she also knew that they could have been worse, but they were in a cruise ship full of people and Joffrey couldn't afford to treat Sansa the same way that he treated her in King's Landing. Still, those days hadn't been good, and the only thing that really consoled her was the fact that it was already halfway over. One more week, and she would be back in King's Landing, which certainly couldn't be much worse than being stuck there with Joffrey.

She missed Sandor. She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn't call him. It would be extremely suspicious if she called Joffrey's bodyguard, and besides, Arya had told her that there was a bug in Sansa's phone, recording her calls. She couldn't remove it because then Joffrey would knew that she knew and it would complicate things so badly... But she couldn't help missing Sandor so much. She missed her family too, like always, but she was used to missing them already. She wasn't used to missing Sandor. For the past half year he had been always there with and for her, and now at every turn she expected to see him and was always disappointed when he wasn't standing there in his bodyguard suit.

But fate seemed to be on her side that day. Just as she was about to start walking back to her cabin, defeated in her purpose of finding a good place to be away from everyone and in peace, she came across a small cell phone store that was on the third level deck of the atrium. She stopped in front of it and frowned. Had that always been there? How was it that she was only finding that store now?!

Sansa thought that it was strange that there was a cell phone store in the middle of a cruise ship, but she wasn't going to complain. Besides, people that were in the middle of the ocean needed to communicate somehow, didn't they? Of course cell phones were going to be needed!

She went inside the store and said hello politely. The store clerk was a very nice going lady that helped her get the cheapest prepaid phone that there was. Sansa didn't need anything else, so when she got a small phone that looked more like an ancient rock than a phone she was very happy. At least that phone didn't have a bug inside of it! She figure that if anyone found out she had bought the phone and asked about it she could say that hers wasn't working properly. It was an easy enough lie.

She left the store and walked again through the inner deck of the ship. She found the exit to the outer deck, and walked on it towards the now of the ship.

Once she was there she leaned over the railing, holding on tightly with her free hand so that she wouldn't slip and fall. She watched the now of the ship breaking through the dark water of the Caribbean Sea. The sky above her was dark and filled with stars. The only time she had seen that many stars covering the sky was when she went with her family camping in the North. She remembered that her brother Bran had been studying the constellations and had tried to teach her about them, but she couldn't remember their names. She wished she could remember them, though.

She sighed and sat down on the floor of the bow of the ship. She took her new phone and looked at it, and dialed a number. She could have dialed her brother's number of only she could remember it, but she didn't and she didn't have him in her contacts. Joffrey had made her delete it long ago. So she dialed a number that she did know by heart. She waited as the phone rang, an she prayed that he would pick her call.

 _"Hello?"_ she suddenly heard his raspy voice at the other side of the line, and her heart jumped in her chest with joy.

"Sandor," she whispered, smiling. She heard him gasp.

 _"Sansa... Is that you?"_ he asked, incredulous.

"Yes," she said, slowly nodding her head, even though he couldn't see her. She leaned against the railing and brought her knees to her chest, putting her free arm around her legs. She was wearing a long golden and black sparkly night dress that didn't shield her from the weather, and it was a bit chilly that night. She shivered. "Yes, it's me. Is it a bad moment?"

_"No! No, it's not a bad moment... But how...? Where are you?"_

"I'm in the ship."

 _"I know, but how can you call me? Where's Joffrey? Sansa, is everything alright?"_ he sounded worried, and Sansa smiled again.

"Yes, everything is alright. Joffrey is inside the ship, I am in the bow of the ship."

 _"In the bow? Sansa, don't do anything stupid,"_ now he did sound worried, and Sansa realized that he thought that maybe she was going to jump. He heard her laugh and Sansa could swear that she head him scoffing. _"No, Sansa, I'm fucking serious. You redheads are crazy. Look what that chick from the movie almost did!"_

Sansa really started laughing then. She didn't know if Sandor was being serious and he was really worried, or if he was just joking. But it didn't matter, he had made her laugh all the same. It was incredible. She had only been speaking to Sandor for a minute and he had already improved her mood in a way that she didn't think was possible after the miserable week she had just had.

_"This isn't funny, Sansa!"_

"It is! It's very funny! You have been watching _Titanic_!" she exclaimed. She would have never thought that Sandor had watched that movie, it wasn't his type at all. She loved that movie, but it always made her cry.

" _I have **not,**_ " Sandor scoffed, indignant. _"I watched it years ago, and it was because I didn't have anything better to do."_

"Sure," Sansa said sarcastically. She couldn't erase the grin from her face. The soft night breeze hit her in the face and made her hair float in the air around her. It was very relaxing. "Besides, she tried to jump from the stern. I'm in the bow," she reminded him.

_"Whatever. How are you, little bird?"_

She sighed. "I've been better," she admitted sadly. She felt Sandor tensing at the other side of the line.

 _"Sansa..."_ he started saying, but she stopped him.

"I don't want to talk about it now."

 _"I understand,"_ he said. There was a bit of an awkward silence.

"I miss you," she said then, breaking the short but tense silence, and she imagined Sandor smiling at that moment. Oh, what she wouldn't give to see him at that moment... "I'll be back in a week, and that is giving me strength. I can't wait to see you."

 _"I can't wait to see you either, little bird,"_ he admitted. _"I love you."_

That surprised Sansa. She was always the one that said that first, and then Sandor said it back to her. It was nice to hear him saying it to her first, though. It made her smile return to her face, and it warmer her heart. If she closed her eyes she could feel him as if he were there with her.

"I love you too," she whispered. "Very much."

She stayed there for some more time, just talking to Sandor in the phone. She had prepaid enough money to be on the phone for about two hours, and she was going to stay there as much time as she could until it was time to leave. They didn't talk about anything specific, they just talked about things that came to mind. Sansa had called Sandor to hear his voice, so raspy and familiar and comforting, and she was happy to just hear him talking. She knew that Sandor felt the same, that he didn't want to talk about anything in particular as long as he was speaking to her. Sansa knew that Sandor missed her just as much as she missed him. Though it hurt her to be hurting him like that, she loved the fact that she could love someone that much and that he loved her fact the same way.

 _I'll come home soon to you,_ she thought while he spoke to her on the phone. She didn't mean home as in King's Landing. She meant _**him**_. She was away from the North and her family, but he was her new home.

 _"When you come back I won't lose you from sight,"_ Sandor promised her.

"That sounds fantastic," she said.

She heard steps coming from afar, and she looked to her left to look at the door that led inside the ship from that deck. She saw with dismay that it was her bodyguard, Arys Oakheart. He had seen her too, and he was walking towards her.

"I have to go now," she said to Sandor. She barely whispered so that Arys wouldn't hear her.

_"Ok, little bird... Please be safe. I will wait for you."_

"I will be. I love you."

With those finals words Sansa hung up the phone. Being careful so that Arys didn't see her and before he could reach her, Sansa threw the phone overboard. It fell all the way from the deck where she was to the water, disappearing forever with a loud splash! It sank to the depths of the sea, taking with it all the evidence of her call to Sandor. Sansa smiled sweetly when Arys reached her, knowing that she couldn't look disappointed or suspicious.

"Hello Arys," she said, ignoring the way in which her bodyguard was glaring at her. He was mad at her for having left him behind and make him look for him all moved the ship.

"Miss Stark," he said, restraining from sounding rude. He knew he couldn't be disrespectful, no matter how upset he was. "You husband is looking for you. He wants you to go back to your cabin immediately."

"Oh, Arys," Sansa said as she stood up. She was still smiling sweetly, but her voice was deeply sarcastic at the moment. "I love my husband very much. But sometimes he can be such a pain in my behind..."

She walked past him then, and headed for the door leaving a baffled Arys behind. The walked to her cabin, to meet her husband. She sighed. There was just one more week left. She had endured that long, and she could survive another week.


	33. No Way Out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make this chapter because many people asked me what was happening with Arya, and also I realized that it will serve to explain things that will happen later :) I hope you like it. I wrote it two days ago and then I deleted everything and rewrote it all again today. 
> 
> I have never been in Mumbai, so I wasn't very sure how to write the scenes in the city, and I hope I did at least a decent job with it. All the information that I could get came from the Internet. I hope I can visit the city someday. 
> 
> Please forgive autocorrect mistakes that might be found around there. I fixed all the ones that I saw. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Arya made her way through the slums of Mumbai, walking quickly so that she could get to the place where she was living soon. Jaqen must already be home. Well, _home._

It was uncomfortable to walk around there, but she had already gotten used to the crowed streets, the strong smells, the vehicles and animals everywhere, and the loud voices of people shouting and talking in a language that she didn't know. She didn't mind, she got used to being in places like those pretty quickly, and she had learned to move around.

Arya couldn't help but compare Mumbai to Westeros, to the North. She had lived almost her entire life in the North, and the only other places where she had lived for longer than a week were King's Landing and Braavos. Apart from those three cities, Mumbai was the place where she had stayed the longest time in the last year and a half, and that was why she couldn't help but compare it. It was so different from her home... The North had been cold and calm and quiet and simple, whereas Mumbai was like an explosion of colors, smells, and noises. It was too hot, too busy. Not that Arya hated it; she would have liked the city if she had been there doing tourism, instead of being there because of the fact that she was stuck there with no way out. That was what she despised. She hated being trapped there, forced to live in not the best conditions. She couldn't complain much, though. At least where she was now was better than where she was before, in the slum of Dharavi.

After the attack that she, Jaqen and the their companions got attacked in the jungle, Jaqen had carried her to the nearest village, and after she got better they travelled to the nearest city. They had stayed there for some time before they decided to hitch a train ride to Mumbai, and there they were now. The only problem was that they had no money, everything had been burned when their vehicle exploded during the attack. They hadn't had money even for the train ticket, which was the reason why they had to hide on the roof of the train and travel all the way to Mumbai like that. The little money that they managed to get their hands on was spent in food, and when they couldn't even afford that they stole it from those that had enough. Arya was not about to steal from poor people, she preferred to spend days hungry, so she told Jaqen only to steal from people that had a lot or a decent amount of money.

Of course, with no money, they couldn't afford a room in a good hotel in Mumbai and neither could they rent a decent apartment in the city. Their only affordable option was to go to the slums, and so they had found themselves in a tiny room in the middle of Dharavi. Arya had hated it, with its narrow streets, garbage everywhere, filth. She had hated the stench. She smell was probably the worst thing, but she knew that there was nothing that she could do about it, so there was no point in complaining. She hadn't liked the place one bit, but then again, she hadn't had much choice other than to be there.

Many of the people in Dharavi worked in the production of leather, manufacturing of textile goods, pottery, distilleries, tanneries, trade... Jaqen and Arya had tried getting a job to earn some money, even if it was a misery, while they were there. However, everyone refused to employ them, and so Arya had continue stealing for survival. It was Jaqen who got them out of that slum in the end, two weeks after they had been living there. He decided to offer his services as a Faceless Man. Arya could have done it too, but she had sworn that she wouldn't kill anyone else before she got to kill Joffrey. However, Jaqen had sworn no such thing. His services as an assassin were rather expensive, and after just one job he managed to get enough money to rent an apartment for him and Arya out of the slum, in a better part of the city though not very luxurious. That was okay with Arya. She didn't need luxury, she just wanted a clean place.

She arrived in the building where they had rented the room and walked in. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the dirty and ruinous as the tiny hole that they had had in Dharavi, so she liked it. It had one bedroom, one small bathroom and a tiny kitchen with a table to eat in it, and that was enough. Jaqen was in the bedroom, lying on the single bed that fit there. He had his eyes closed. When they had been in Dharavi he had offered the tiny bed to Arya and he had slept on the floor, but after they moved to that new place Arya let him share the bed with her because it was big enough for both of them. Nothing ever happened; they were just friends and partners, and Arya hated to see him sleeping on the floor. Besides, she wasn't that kind of woman. She wasn't interested in Jaqen as a man, even though she knew that he somewhat fancied her. However, he respected her and never treated her as anything else but his friend and partner in crime, and Arya liked that. She thought he was a good man and handsome and interesting, but she had only loved once in her life. She sighed. She hadn't seen Gendry in such a long time...

She leaned on the doorframe of the bedroom and looked at Jaqen sleeping. He looked exhausted. He had dyed his hair black because his red and white hair had called too much attention. Arya still thought that it was weird to see him like that. He almost looked normal, and Jaqen had always been anything but normal.

She was going to let him sleep, so she turned around to walk away towards the kitchen, but the sound of his voice stopped her.

"Hey," she heard him saying. Arya turned around and saw Jaqen looking at her with only one eye open. His voice sounded tired.

"Hey," she replied. "When did you come back?" she asked. He had spent outside the entire night, and it was already well past 6 pm.

"About an hour ago. It was hard to find the guy that they paid me to get rid of. He knew we were coming."

"Did you get to him?"

"Of course I did," Jaqen said, and sounded as if the question offended him. He always got to his targets, no matter who they were or how well they his from him. "He was some gangster that trained slum children to be beggars..."

"That's awful," Arya said, frowning. Jaqen shrugged.

"Whatever," Jaqen thought like most of the other Faceless Men: he didn't care who the victims were or what they did to deserve that fate. Arya still couldn't get rid of the habit of judging them. She did care.

Jaqen pointed a finger to a small bag that was on the small bedside table. "There's the money."

"Good," Arya said, walking over to the table and picking the bag up. She counted the money. It was in rupees; she was still a bit unfamiliar with that kind of currency. "Is it enough for a plane ticket?"

She had been saving to be able to get out of there and fly to Westeros, but the tickets were expensive. Jaqen had protested when she first mentioned it, he had said that they had orders to stay in India, but Arya didn't care. She was angry that they had left then there for four months to their own luck, and she needed to get back to Westeros immediately. She had already spent too much time away. In the end Jaqen had given in and he had started helping her save the money.

"Enough for two, actually," Jaqen said, and Arya's face lot up with a smile. Yes! They made it! They were finally getting out of there!

She ran to the bed and jumped on it, hugging Jaqen and surprising him. It wasn't often that she displayed affection lately, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. She was happy.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"Ok, _ok!_ You are welcome, lovely girl... Now get off me and let me sleep."

Arya chuckled. Jaqen was like a cat, grumpy when he was sleepy or hungry. She got off the bed and walked out of the room.

"I brought you some food," she heard him say, and then she heard him yawn. "And the newspaper. It's in the kitchen."

The newspaper? Why did she want the newspaper? She didn't know Hindi! In fact, she ignored what was happening in the rest of the world outside of Mumbai because she could get her hands on a newspaper in English, and they hadn't been able to buy a TV...

She was greatly surprised when she saw the newspaper. It was in English! It was American, the New York Times. It would have been better if it had been a Westerosi newspaper, but Arya couldn't complain. She immediately grabbed the newspaper and sat on a chair, and started reading immediately. She was even more surprised when she found news of Westeros, and even more so when she saw maher brother Robb's picture. She started reading...

"Oh my God!" she jumped on her chair. She stood up and ran back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, forgetting everything about Jaqen's urgent need to take a nap. "Jaqen!"

"What...?"

"My brother won! My brother is the new President of Westeros!"

That woke Jaqen up enough to make him open his eyes again a sit up a bit on the bed to look at the article that Arya was showing him. She hadn't finished reading it, but Jaqen did read it all. Towards the end he frowned. Arya didn't understand that expression, and she was going to ask what made him frown when suddenly he said, completely stunned and shocked and confused:

"Joffrey is Vice President?"

What? Arya frowned as well and looked at the article again, searching for where it said that. Jaqen signaled it to her and Arya read it. Yes, Joffrey Baratheon was the new Vice President.

"I don't understand," she murmured, shaking her head. "That can't be right. Theon was going to be the Vice President, we knew Robb's plans... There must be a mistake!"

It had to be a mistake. Robb would never betray Theon like that, he wouldn't choose Joffrey over his best friend... But then Jaqen turned the page, and the article about Robb was still continuing there, and Arya read it. She gasped when she saw a picture of Theon at the bottom of the page. Then she read about the shark attack.

Jaqen was hugging her before she even realized that she was crying. She was doing so silently, but tears ran down her face like tiny rivers going down a mountain. She felt her hands weaken, and the newspaper fell from them to the floor.

"No..." she whispered, and she leaned her head against Jaqen's chest. "No... Why...?"

"Sshh, it's okay," Jaqen murmured. She shook he head again.

"It's not okay... None of this is okay. I knew this was going to happen... I shouldn't be here, I should have been there..."

"There's nothing you could have done, it was a shark attack."

" _You seriously believe that?!_ " Arya yelled, snapping at Jaqen. She didn't want to yell at him, but he was the only person that she could talk to and she couldn't stop herself from snapping at him. Jaqen never got angry when Arya yelled at him because he knew what she was going through and he understood what she was feeling. "I told you what Joffrey did to my father! He is a monster! He planned this!" she cried, looking down at the newspaper on the floor.

She felt afraid. If Joffrey had killed Theon just because he was going to be Vice President if Robb won, and Robb was now President and Joffrey was his Vice President...

" _Oh my God,_ " she cried again. Her body was shaking terribly, and not even Jaqen's arms around her could keep her steady. She felt a fear inside her that she hadn't felt in a long time. It was a fear worse than the one she had felt when she thought she was going to die four months ago, during the attack. "He's going to kill Robb..."

"That's not going to happen," Jaqen said, trying to calm her, but it didn't work.

" _It is_ , he is going to kill my brother!" Arya yelled.

"No, Arya, we are going to leave soon, okay?" Jaqen said, holding her head between his hands so that she would look at him. "We are going to buy tickets to King's Landing, and then you will have a second chance to kill Joffrey. You won't fail this time, and your brother will be safe. Your sister will be safe too."

Arya didn't know if she could believe it or not. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that she would return to Westeros and save her family. She had already lost her father to that monster, Joffrey, and her innocence too. Because of what he had done she had been forced to flee, to become an assassin, a murderer. Her father was lost and she was also lost, but she couldn't lose anyone else from her family.

She didn't know how she fell asleep. The news had exhausted her, and her tears had made her sleepy, and she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep in Jaqen's arms. Her friend never left her alone, he was always there to console her, and he guarded her in her sleep. When she woke up she still had his arms around her in a protective way, and she felt like a small child. Jaqen had fallen asleep again and he didn't notice when Arya moved away from him and stood up from the bed. The room was dark; the sun had hidden in the horizon and night had fallen upon Mumbai.

Arya wanted to get out of the apartment, she needed to go to the street. She felt trapped in there all of a sudden, and she wanted to get rid if that awful feeling of oppression. If it had been an earlier hour and Jaqen was awake, she would have wanted to go straight to the airport and get the plane tickets to get out of there immediately, but it was too late and she didn't want to wake Jaqen. The trip to the airport would have to wait until the next morning.

Arya ate the food that Jaqen had brought for her earlier before she left the apartment. She hadn't eaten in the entire day, and she was starving. She didn't know what she was eating, it was some spicy Indian stuff that she didn't recognize, but it tasted really good. She washed it down with water to get rid of the burning in her mouth and then she picked up the keys and left the tiny apartment without making any noise, closing the door behind her carefully. Before she left she had also picked up a small knife from a drawer in the bedside table, and she his the blade underneath her sleeve; she hated going out without weapons. She left the building and ventures again into the streets of Mumbai, still crowded and noisy but now full of artificial lights that illuminated the streets in pretty colors.

She didn't know where she was heading. She didn't have any place to go in mind, so she just walked. There was a light rain falling and soaking her up, but she didn't mind. It had been raining almost non stop for the past month, which at the beginning she believed that was a good thing because she had hated the heat of the first month that she spent there. However, when she discovered that the rain marked the beginning if the monsoon season, she hated the rain. In August it was still raining, but less. She liked the fact that the rain that was falling in that moment was light, and it served to cool her down. It was relaxing, in a certain way.

She walked around crossing streets and going around corners, but she wasn't worried about getting lost. In those months she had tried to get to know Mumbai like the palm of her hand. She had been taught by the Faceless Man to know her surroundings to the point of perfection, so that she could know all the escapes and all the ways in and out of places.

She was walking distractedly between the crowd when suddenly she felt a cold shiver going all over her body, and the short hairs on the back of her head stood on end. She knew that feeling, it was an instinct that she had gotten after her training with the Faceless Men. She stopped walking and turned around, trying to see if there was anyone observing her, but she couldn't see anyone like that in between all the people that were around her. She acted as if nothing had happened and continued walking, but she couldn't shake the feeling off her. She was certain that there was someone watching her, maybe even following her... But who?

Her mind was immediately invaded by the image of the people that had attacked her in the jungle and tried to kill her. Had they found her? Were they after her? Jaqen had said that he had killed the men that had followed her to the river, but there could be more of them. She felt the blade hidden under her sleeve, and she was determined to be caught by surprise again. If whoever was following her was one of those men and he wanted to kill her, she would be ready to defend herself and attack.

She walked a little bit faster, but not a lot. She keep acting as if she was distracted, and then she entered a side street when she reached it. The street was long, dark, narrow, and empty. It was the kind of street that looked very dangerous. There were some puddles of dirty water on the floor, and garbage. Rats roamed around there, but Arya didn't mind them. She kept walking to end of the street, which led to perpendicular street that was also narrow and dark and empty. She went around the corner and stayed there with her back behind the wall, hiding and waiting. She could hear steps coming closer in the other street. The sound reverberated between the narrow walls, and Arya heard a foot stepping on one of the puddles. She took the small knife out from under her sleeve and waited for whomever was following her to come I to the street where she was ready to attack.

Seconds later, a man appeared. He was tall and dressed all in black; Arya couldn't see his face. Before the man had a chance to walk around the corner and see her standing there, Arya jumped on him, silent like a cat and quick as a snake. With her free hand she pushed him against the wall and held him there, and with the other hand she took the knife to his throat. She didn't kill him, though.

"Who are you?" she hissed, pressing the point of the knife against the soft skin of his throat. "Why are you following me?"

"Valar Morghulis," the man suddenly said, taking Arya by surprise. The man could have used that moment to take the knife away from her and reverse their positions, but he stood still waiting for her to react.

She looked at him, examining him. The man had olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes; his accent was Braavosi. Then Arya took a better look at his black clothes. The man dressed like a Faceless Man.

"Valar Dohaeris," she murmured, moving the knife away from the man's neck. There was a thin thread of blood running down the man's neck, but he didn't seem to notice it. He was looking at Arya with interest.

"You are Arya Stark," he said, and she nodded. She asked his name. "The name isn't important. I was sent here to retrieve you."

"Retrieve me?"

"Yes. The boss wants you back."

Arya scoffed. "After all this time? The last time we had any knew of the boss we were told that he didn't want us out of here, that he didn't want us back."

"The situation was complicated back then, but now it had changed. You can leave India."

"It's been four months!" Arya hissed, feeling and and furious. She knew she should take her anger out on the man, he was only one more Faceless Man following order and he didn't have any part in the decision making about the fate of Arya and Jaqen, but she couldn't just nod and be okay with all of that. "Why now? We were abandoned to rot here for _four months!_ "

"The wait is over," the man said patiently. "But if you want to leave this place, Arya Stark, you have to come with me now."

"What about Jaqen?"

"Another Faceless Man has gone to talk to him. We will all meet in the airport, where there is a flight waiting for us."

"Where are you taking us?" Arya asked. She knew that they weren't going to take her to Westeros, she wasn't that stupid, but she didn't know where the boss was in that moment. The last time she spoke to him he was in France."

"We are going to Moscow," the man said, and then he started walking away to leave those dark back streets.

Russia? They were going to Russia?! Arya wanted to protest, but she didn't. At least she was finally getting out of India and she was going to stop being unable to do something to stop Joffrey. She just hoped that they would take her to Westeros soon after going to Moscow, and that that nightmare could end soon.

In silence, she followed the man.

* * *

 

There was a jet waiting for them in the airport. Just as the Faceless Man that accompanied Arya had said, another man had taken Jaqen to the Mumbai airport. When Arya saw him she hugged him and she couldn't help but smile happily; they were finally getting out of there. Jaqen returned the smile, and he gave her an encouraging push when they were boarding the jet.

She looked through the window to watch the city as the jet took flight. She finally felt free. Those four months had been the longest months of her life, but the wait was finally over and she could get away. She would go to Moscow, and then she would go to King's Kanding. Then she would go home. Everything would be alright.

The flight was very long, but she had expected it to be longer. She stayed awake the entire flight, too nervous and anxious to be able to close her eyes and rest. That wasn't the case with Jaqen, the man could sleep anywhere. He had already fallen asleep again on his seat, and Arya could not understand how he could do that, but she wished she could so the same.

No one spoke during the entire flight, until almost the end, when the Faceless Man that had found her in the street approached her with a cup of tea and gave it to her.

"It will help with the nerves," he told her, and so she took the tea. It smelled strange, but she hadn't drunk a lot of tea in her life so she didn't know how it was supposed to smell.

She drank it. It tasted sweet. She finished the entire cup because she was very nervous, and the next thing she knew was her eyelids were closing, and her head felt very heavy. She didn't notice when the cup fell from her hands and shattered against the floor.

When she woke up she wasn't in the jet anymore, she was in the back seat of a car. She sat up and massaged her neck. Her head hurt and she felt uncomfortable.

"Are we already there...?" she asked, a bit sleepy still.

"We are almost there," the man answered her. He was in the passenger seat.

Arya didn't say anything. She felt so weird and weak, like she had been in a restless sleep for a very long time. She massaged her neck a little more and then she looked outside the window. She frowned when she saw that they weren't in a city, and that there weren't any kind of building around. They were in the middle of nowhere.

Where the hell were they?

She turned her head to the other side and was starlet to see that the man sitting next to her was a stranger, and not Jaqen like she had originally thought. She looked through all the windows of the car, but she didn't see any other cars around them.

"Where's Jaqen?" she asked, feeling a knot in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong there.

"Jaqen had to stay behind. Boss's orders. He'll catch up with us later."

"Why? Where are we?"

"In Russia."

"You said we were going to Moscow!" she exclaimed angrily. She felt the desire to hit every single man that was inside that car with her, but she didn't want to cause an accident. "This isn't Moscow."

"No," the man said, shaking his head. "We are about ten miles away from a village called Oymyakon."

Oymyakon. She knew the name, it was one of the coldest places in the Northern Hemisphere. She felt the anger building up in her.

"You brought me to _Siberia?!_ Why?"

"I don't know," the man said, speaking the truth. "We are just doing what the boss told us to do. He has all the answers, not us. We are just pawns."

"We all are," Arya said bitterly. She was angry, very angry. Why? Why did they all lie to her? First they left her alone in India, and now they lied to her to take her to Siberia. What was happening? What had she done wrong?!

The car stopped in front of a building that looked like a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The man sitting next to Arya was the first one to get out of the car, and then she followed him. She was surprised to find that the ground was frozen, even though it was the beginning of August and the temperature was somewhat high. She wouldn't want to be stuck in that place in the winter, with temperatures that could go as low as -96 degrees. It was the same in the far north of Westeros, but she had never gone near those places in her life. Her brother Jon had, and the things that he had told her about the painful cold so far up north made her no my want to go anywhere near there.

Arya followed the men to the warehouse, and she went in before them. As she looked around she realized that it wasn't exactly a warehouse. It looked more like a... like a prison?

"Welcome, Arya," a soft voice said, and she gasped and looked in front of her.

The leader of the Faceless Man was walking towards her, dressed in black and white clothes. No one knew his name, so he was known as the Kindly Man, because his face was that of the kindliest old man that they had ever seen in their lives. Most just referred to him as the boss. He was a person that they had to fear; he was a kind man, but he was also dangerous. His age disguised his strength and wit and his lethalness. That man knew more ways to kill a person that anyone else in the world. He was a master of death. He had taught Arya everything that she knew, and she had become his proud student. She admired him, but she also felt furious with him.

"Master," she said, respectfully greeting him with a soft movement of her head. She couldn't let her anger get her in trouble with the leader of the most lethal men in the world.

"It is good to have you back," the Kindly Man said, and Arya knew that he meant it. He hadn't abandoned her in India out of spite but out of need instead, and she could understand it, but she still felt bad about it.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked, not understand why they had to meet in Oymyakon out of all the possible places to meet on Earth. It was so strange, and she knew that there was something that she didn't know, something that they weren't telling her.

"Patience, Arya."

"With all due respect, I have waited long enough in Mumbai."

The Kindly Man was silent for a couple of seconds, just watching Arya. She knew that he knew that she was angry, she wasn't very good at hiding her emotions. The Kindly Man wasn't a fool, and he knew that Arya did not want nice words of welcome and apologies; she wanted an explanation to everything that had happened and an explanation for what was happening then.

"We knew that you were planning to get out of India on your own sooner or later," he explained. "I couldn't let that happen, I can't let you go back to Westeros and kill Joffrey, not now."

"Why?"

"The men that attacked you in India are still out there. They are many, and they are attacking other Faceless Men. All the people that I've sent to spy Joffrey and the Lannisters have appeared dead. They weren't successful with you and Jaqen, but you two were an exception. You are also their priority, because you are the one that wants to kill Joffrey. They want to keep him alive."

"Who's _"they"_?" Arya asked, bit understanding anything. None of it made any sense! "Why are they doing this? And is that why you kept me in India, to keep me safe? _I don't believe it."_

"We don't know who they are yet, but I have people investigating it. We will find out soon," the Kindly Man responded to her questions. "We don't know why they are doing this, but we know that Joffrey did not hire them. He still has no idea of who tried to shoot him and failed," he put special emphasis on the word failed. Arya felt her blood boiling with anger, and she clenched her fists. "And no. I kept you in India so that you wouldn't do anything stupid, like killing Joffrey."

"You know why I failed," she muttered. "His bodyguard is no longer a problem."

"I know, and I also know that you won't fail the next time that you attempt to take Joffrey Baratheon's life," the Kindly Man said. As he spoke he walked towards Arya, approaching her until he was only a couple feet away from her. His face was serious, but there was a faint glow of pity in his eyes. "But that moment is not now, and I'm afraid I don't know how to make you understand that."

Finally Arya understood why she was there, in the middle of Siberia in a place that looked like a prison. It all made sense finally.

"You want to keep me locked here," it wasn't a question.

"I don't want to, but I don't know if I can trust you," the leader of the Faceless Men said with a sigh. "Can you promise me that you won't attack Joffrey Baratheon until you have my permission to do so?"

Months ago she could have promised it. She had done it once, and she had waited until he gave her permission to go to Westeros and try to kill Joffrey. But back then Robb wasn't President. Back then Theon wasn't dead. Back then Sansa wasn't married to that monster. Back then Arya wasn't running out of time. She shook her head slowly.

"I can't," she confessed. "I need him dead."

"Then, Arya, I'm afraid that in going to have to keep you here."

"You have no right! _I paid!_ I paid for Joffrey's life, you promised me he would die! You promised me I was going to kill him!" she yelled, feeling that she couldn't hold back her anger anymore.

"And you will, but death has its due time for everybody. I can't let you kill Joffrey now and doom all Faceless Men to a war with an invisible enemy that is already one step ahead from us," the Kindly Man said, but he didn't sound not seemed so kindly anymore. He was upset, Arya could see it in his face. She had never seen him upset. "If we kill Joffrey, then whomever wants to keep him alive will turn on us. Until we know who those people are, that is a risk that we cannot take!"

 _"But-!"_ Arya started protesting, but before she could keep speaking two Faceless Men picked her up and carried her towards a door, and then up some stairs. Arya was so small and light that it was no effort for them to carry her, even though she screamed and kicked and punched them. She even bit them and scratched them, but they wouldn't let her go; she was strong, but they were huge and stronger than her.

They took her to the second floor and carried her to an empty room that was more like a cell, with plain grey walls and no furniture. The threw her inside and the Kindly Man appeared and blocked the way before she could try to sneak out the door.

"I'm sorry, Arya," he said, and he meant it. "I promise you that I will let you out as soon as we know who this role are, what they want, and how to defeat them. Then I will let you kill Joffrey."

" _This is not fair_!"

"Life isn't fair."

 _"I'll kill them all._ "

"That is to great a task for you alone."

"Don't you understand what you are doing?" Arya said desperately, panicking over what she knew would happen if Joffrey remained alive more time. She couldn't stop thinking about her family, and about Sansa. Oh, Sansa... Arya had promised her that she would save her, but she had lied. They had made her break her promise to her sister, and now Sansa was stuck with that beast... "Theon is already dead. My family can be next! _I have to save them!_ "

"I won't let you go, Arya. I will say it no more," the Kindly Man declared, and then he grabbed the doorknob of the door to close it.

"Many people are going to die if Joffrey lives!" Arya yelled. She wanted to cry, to scream. She wanted to get out of there, she wanted someone to listen to her! "They are all going to die! You have to help me, _please_!"

"The Faceless Men take lives, we don't save them," were her leader's last words before he closed the door, leaving Arya alone there with no hopes at all that she could get her be vengeance and keep her promise.


	34. I've Been Waiting For You Since You've Been Gone.

Sandor had been tossing and turning ever since he went to bed that night. It had been the same for two weeks, ever since he went to Casterly Rock. Sleep couldn't find him in that place, and when he did sleep his was tormented by nightmares. Sansa was always in them. He sometimes woke up startled and covered in cold sweat, and he had come to dread the moment to go to sleep.

He had his eyes wide open that night. The moon was shinning brightly on the sky. The moonlight came through his windows and lit up his room with a silvery and spooky light. It just served to keep him even more awake. He tried taking sleeping tablets a few nights ago, but they only served to give him more hours of restless nights filled with nightmares. If sleeping less meant less nightmares then he preferred to be fucking tired in the morning. He hated seeing Sansa in his nightmares, it was worse than when he saw fire in them.

The worst one that he had had so far involved both Sansa and fire. In his nightmare he had seen Sansa jumping off the stern of the cruise ship, but instead of falling to the waters of the Caribbean she fell to a sea of green flames that licked her body and covered her completely until only a blackened skeleton was left behind. The night he dreamed that was the only night that Sandor woke up with a scream. He never screamed.

It was already 4:00 AM, and he had accepted the fact that he was going to be working the next day walking like a zombie and with dark circles under his eyes. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything lately.

"Fuck," he cursed out loud when he realized how screwed he was.

He heard something then that called his attention. He heard the sound of a car getting closer to the Casterly Rock mansion, and then he saw the bright lights of the car coming through his window. The car parked, and he heard voices. Sandor frowned. Who the fuck was coming so late at night to the mansion? That wasn't usual.

Full of curiosity he got off the bed and walked over to the window. The chill air of his room made the hair of his naked torso stand on end, but he didn't mind the cold. He approached the window and looked through it down to the front gate of the mansion, and he saw a black car parked there. The butler had come out of the mansion and was opening the door of the car while the driver took luggage out of the trunk. The butler offered his hand to whomever was inside the car to help them out, and Sandor gasped when he saw a woman's feminine and delicate hand coming out of the car and holding the butler's hand. Sandor held his breath as he watched Sansa emerge from the car, and he almost laughed with joy. He didn't, though, because that would have been stupid and he would have woken up the entire household.

He watched Sansa start walking towards the front door of the mansion while the butler and the driver carried her luggage behind her. Sandor could not believe that he was seeing Sansa there, in the same place as him. He felt a joy inside of him that he didn't know he was so able of feeling. It had only been two weeks since he saw Sansa board that plane, but they had felt like an eternity in Hell. But that was over. She was there, with him...

His smiled faded from his face when she came closer to the door and he could see her face. She looked thinner, and she wasn't smiling. She looked exhausted, but it wasn't like she was feeling tired physically, it was more like... like she couldn't even with the weight of her own soul. Her exhaustion was emotional, he could see it in her eyes. There was something off about her, like she had been drained of happiness.

He almost slammed his hand against the window when he saw her like that. He knew exactly what was wrong with her, and he wished he could break the little shit's neck with his own hands right that instant...

He waited for Joffrey to come out of the black car, but that didn't happen. Only Sansa's bodyguard, Arys Oakheart, came out of the car. Joffrey wasn't there, Sansa had returned alone. Sandor felt relieved. He wanted that fucker as many miles away from Sansa as possible.

Sansa entered the mansion, and Sandor wished that he could run to see her. He felt like he couldn't wait a second longer, but he had to. It was so late at night, and he didn't have an excuse to appear in front of Sansa and in front of the people that accompanied her, and she was probably exhausted. She needed to rest, and Sandor had to force himself to survive that night without seeing her.

He heard steps in the staircase. The mansion was so silent that he could heard every single sound made, and he knew that that was Sansa heading towards her room in Casterly Rock. He waited until the sound of her steps disappeared and then, when everything was silent again, he returned to his bed. It felt awfully empty and cold, and more like a torture instrument now that he had to go to sleep without being able to say one word to Sansa, or give her one quick kiss... Oh, what he wouldn't give just to see her one short second that night, and tell her how much he had missed her.

He covered himself with the bedsheets, trying to shield himself from the cold. The alarm on his bedside table read 4:20 in big green letters, and he groaned. It was late at night indeed, but it would still be many more hours until he could finally see Sansa. And when that happened he would probably only be able to greet her politely, like any bodyguard greeted the wife of his boss. Damn that place, and damn all those fucking Lannisters that were around them!

He saw the hour change as time passed by. It was already almost 5:00 AM and sleep still didn't come to him. He didn't expect to sleep even a single second that night, not with the knowledge that Sansa was sleeping just over him killed him. He just hoped that that night, when sleep finally came, his nightmares would go away and they would be replaced by sweet dreams of her instead...

His eyelids had started to feel a bit heavy finally when suddenly he heard a careful knock on the door. At first he thought he had imagined it, but he opened his eyes again and raised his head a bit and looked at the door. He frowned when he heard a knock again and he sat up on the bed. Before he could say anything the door opened carefully, and Sansa snuck inside his room, catching him completely off guard. He gasped sharply as she closed the door carefully behind her, and his eyes roamed her. She was wearing a pink silk pajama, but he couldn't care less about that. The only thing that he could focus on was her, Sansa, and the fact that she was there! There, in his room, in front of him!

She did look thinner, and he still thought that something in her looked off, but her eyes kept having that brave glow that they had always had. Sansa had been brave since the beginning, even though she was scared. In fact, she was brave because she was scared. He saw something else in her eyes too, a defiance that hadn't been there before, but it wasn't directed towards him. What was directed to him in her eyes was the intense and at the same time tender look that took over then as soon as she stared at him.

"Sandor..." she whispered, and hearing her voice in person after so long made him feel a cold shiver running down him spine.

"Sansa," was all he got to say before she ran towards the bed and jumped over him.

His arms were around her immediately after her body crashed against his, and the force of the impact him back and he fell on his back on the bed again, with Sansa on top of him. His arms embraced her and pulled her closer to him, and his eyes roamed all over her face over and over again, as if he could to believe that she was real, that she was there. Sandor smiled, and right afterwards Sansa lowered her head and kissed him full in the mouth. Sandor kissed her back and closed his eyes to feel her more intensely. His hand moved towards her head and his fingers became tangled in her hair, and his other hand went up and down her back. Sansa's hands were on his naked chest, and the contact sent sparks through his entire body. They stayed like that, pressed together and kissing until they ran out of breath and parted to get some air. Their were both panting.

"Sansa..." Sandor whispered again, caressing her soft skin. Sansa lifted her hand from his chest and put it over his hand in a loving way. She smiled at him.

"I missed you so much," she murmured.

"I missed you too," he said, and then he was the one that kissed her.

Sansa's lips tasted salty, and Sandor realized that she had started crying and that her tears were running down her face. He separated a little bit from her and wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worried. She shook her head.

"It's nothing," she told him. He tried to see if her eyes have something away, and he expected to see pain or sadness in them but he just saw a brilliant glow in them that his all her other emotions. "I'm just so happy to be here... I wanted to see you so badly that I couldn't wait till morning."

He could understand her perfectly, because he had felt the same. Being away from Sansa had hurt physically, and he felt so relieved that she was there with him now. Finally the wait was over, and those terrible two weeks that she had been away were a thing of the past. Now Sandor could see her, take care of her, know that she was fine. He would have to suffer those terrible nightmares again...

"And I'm happy that you are here," he confessed softly.

Sansa smiled. Sandor's thumb caressed her soft and full lips, which parted for him. Sandor locked his eyes on them. How much he had wanted to kiss those lips again... He sat up on the bed again, and Sansa sat on his lap. She put one hand behind his head and the other one on the burnt side of his face. Sandor wished that he could feel Sansa's touch there, but he was glad that Sansa didn't mind his scars at all and felt comfortable touching them. He put one hand on her waist and the other behind her back, pulling her closer to him. He wasn't shirtless, and the too of her pajama was thin so her could feel her body perfectly. They locked their eyes on each other, and after a few moments of silence they kissed again.

Sansa wasn't crying anymore, but Sandor could still taste the salt of her tears in her lips. He kissed her softly, but at the same time hungrily. Their lips moved together and in harmony, like they were dancing a perfectly choreographed dance. The room, whose silence had previously been disturbed only by the sound of the wind outside, was now filled with the sound of their heavy breaths and their slow but intense kissing.

Sandor felt like he was going to explode. He wanted to have all of Sansa for himself that night, he wanted to kiss every inch of her and eat her up, but he knew that that would be stupid. The entire mansions would hear them, and besides, he didn't want to hurt her. He had never hurt Sansa before, but the situation was so different now. He was no fool, he knew that he had to be gentle with her. That moment wasn't about him satiating the need of her that he had been feeling for two weeks and that had now intensified, it was about him giving Sansa the attention and the love and the care that she needed and that she had lacked. Sandor was always a selfish dog with everything, except when it came to Sansa. His little bird's needs would always come before his, and so he was careful.

He could feel her want, though, and the passion behind her kisses. Slowly, Sandor's tongue licked her lips softly and parted her lips. Sansa parted them enough for him, and his tongue met hers, and the kiss became wet and more heated. Sandor groaned in the back of his throat with the contact of their tongues, and he shivered with pleasure. Sansa had that effect with him, he felt pleasure with just the slightest touch... The hand that Sansa had on the side of his face moved down to his chest. Sansa felt Sandor's skin starting to burn up, and she moved her hand up and down his torso, grazing his skin with the tips of her fingers. Sandor groaned again in the back of his throat, and Sansa smiled against his mouth.

"They are going to hear us," Sandor said during a brief moment in which they stopped kissing to breath a little. "If they find us here like this..."

"Damn them," Sansa said then, surprising Sandor. "I need you now. They won't hear us, they are all sleeping... Sandor, please, don't make me leave."

That was the last thing that he wanted to do, so he wrapped his arms around her and shut her up with his mouth. He was surprised by the intensity with which Sansa kissed him back, hungrily joining her lips to his. Sandor was still conscious that he had to be careful with her, but he responded to her kiss with the same ferocity that Sansa was displaying. Gods, he had missed her so much... She had missed him just as much as well.

He snuck his hands under her top, and his hands touched her skin. She was cold, but his hands were warm and transmitted some of that warmth to her. Sansa shivered when she felt Sandor's hands on her, and she moaned against his mouth when he started caressing her softly. Sandor fell back against the bed again, taking Sansa with him, and he rolled over until Sansa was the one on her back and he was on top of her. He put his arms on both sides of Sansa, balancing his weight on them so that he wouldn't crush her small body. His lips left her mouth and he kissed her jaw. Sansa purred like a kitty, making Sandor smile. Sansa had missed the way in which Sandor's shirt beard scratched her skin when he kissed her, and she moaned softly when Sandor's kissed her neck, nipped gently at her skin. His right hand moved to the bottom of her too and lifted it up a little bit, exposing part of her skin.

Sandor felt Sansa tensing up underneath him, and he stopped. He looked at her in the eyes, and found that she was looking at him too. A glimpse of uneasiness had appeared in her eyes. Sandor understood it.

"Don't worry," Sandor murmured. "I'm not going to... I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do, Sansa, I swear. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know," she said, nodding her head. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, it's just that..."

"You don't have to apologize about anything," Sandor said then, and his voice was low and serious. "You hear me? You are not the one that has to apologize."

Sansa didn't say anything, she just nodded. Sandor pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes and did nothing for a couple of seconds, he just stood there in that position feeling Sansa's breath on him and her fast heartbeat in her chest under him. Sansa put her hand on his neck and caressed him with her fingers. She was the first one to move and start kissing him again. That kiss was soft and careful, and Sandor didn't complain. He was more than happy that Sansa still wanted to kiss him, he was ecstatic.

He felt Sansa slightly pushing him off her with her free hand, and he moved a little bit away from her, confused. He sat up, and Sansa did the same but instead of getting off the bed like Sandor was afraid she might do and walk up she grabbed her top and pulled it off. She was left with only a revealing white lace bra, and Sandor's eyes roamed her body with lustful hunger.

He saw then a bruise on Sansa's side. It was only one, not very big, but it still looked painful and recent. Sandor watched it and saw red. He felt his blood starting boiling with anger, and he clenched his fists imagining that that _**monster**_ was a tiny insect that was crushed inside of them. Sansa noticed him looking staring at her bruise, and she held Sandor's face carefully with her hands to make him look at her. Her eyes locked on his.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's alright..."

"No, it's not..." he rasped, slowly shaking his head.

"It is," she insisted softly. "It's only you and me now..."

When Sansa laid back on the bed again Sandor moved and put himself on top of her again. The contact of Sansa's skin against his drive him crazy, and he felt like every single nerve of his body was on fire.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

Sansa nodded, and then she cupped his face between her hands and brought his face closer to hers so that she could kiss him. Once their lips touched again, Sandor's slowly and carefully out his hands on Sansa's body, and he started caressing her naked skin. He felt Sansa shivering underneath her, and then her arms surrounded him and her hands roamed his back. She lifted her legs and surrounded Sandor's waist with them, bringing him even closer to her.

Sandor stopped kissing and touching Sansa when he thought he heard a noise in the hallway outside the bedroom, and he turned his head around to look at the door. He was afraid for a second that they had been discovered and someone was going to burst the door open and enter the room to find them there, and what were they to do then? He felt panic for a second until time passed and he realized that he had imagined it, that there was no one there. He sighed in relief, and looked at Sansa again.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he reminded her. "But I don't want you to go."

"I'll stay until the sun starts coming up," she told him. "If you want."

"Of course I do," he said. He kissed her briefly. "Should we be expecting your shithead of a husband anytime soon, though?"

He damn hoped he didn't have to see Joffrey the following days, because he wasn't sure that he had it in him to not knock the prick's teeth out as soon as he saw him. Sansa shook her head.

"He has stayed in King's Landing. We have to move for the Red Keep so that Robb can move in, and Joffrey is organizing everything. He wanted me to come here before him because we are going to live here until he finds a new place. Besides, he has political stuff to do and I have some filming to do, so I won't be seeing him for quite some time," she said. Sandor smiled when he heard that, he was happy that Sansa was going to be away from Joffrey for a while. But then his heart sank in his chest when he realized the downside of that.

"Then I guess I will be called to King's Landing soon and I'll have to leave you here..." he rasped. He felt devastated. He had just gotten Sansa back, and now he was the one that had to leave her.

It didn't escape him the way in which Sansa was suddenly grinning. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her confused.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was going to tell you in the morning. Joffrey got very angry with my bodyguard because I kept escaping from them in the ship and they couldn't find me for hours sometimes. He's going to assign them to Tommen and Myrcella, and Arys Oakheart has been assigned to guard Cersei. And... Well, Joffrey thinks that you are the only one able to control me."

"What are you saying, Sansa?"

Sansa giggled, delighted. "He's giving you to me! You will work for him sometimes, of course, but you are _my_ personal bodyguard now!"

Sandor couldn't believe it. Joffrey was assigning him to Sansa... That meant that he would be able to go everywhere with her, every day. He would always be with her, and he wouldn't need to excuse to do so! Joffrey was giving Sansa to Sandor in a silver platter and he didn't even know it. Sandor couldn't help it and he laughed under his breath, and he couldn't hide the smile that spread over his face.

"That man is a fucking idiot," he murmured. If Joffrey was hoping to that Sandor would keep an eye on Sansa and make sure that she was being faithful, then he could go right ahead and fuck himself.

"I know," Sansa agreed, and she chuckled.

In his joy Sandor kissed Sansa again, and he felt her lips curling up in a smile. Sansa then covered his face in kisses, still smiling, feeling just as happy as he was by the fact that they were going to be together almost always from them on. Sandor buried his face in Sansa's neck and kissed her there. He went down her neck leaving a trail of kisses on her skin, and then he kissed the tips of her breasts, still covered by her revealing and sexy white lace bra. Had that been another day, and had Sandor not promised himself earlier that he would not take things too far with Sansa that night, he would have unhooked the clasp of her bra and left her breasts bare and done all kinds of things to them. That night, however, he left her bra on and was satisfied with only kissing the soft skin of the areas that were exposed. His hand grazed one of her breasts, but he didn't leave his hand there. He wasn't an idiot and he knew what Sansa needed that night.

After kissing the fullness of the top of Sansa's breasts, Sandor continued kissing Sansa's body: he went down her flat belly until he reached her bellybutton, and he reached her jeans. His hands were on her waist.

He felt Sansa moving and sitting up all of a sudden. She gasped, and he stopped kissing her to look at her.

" _Wait-_ " she was starting to say, but Sandor interrupted her.

"I know, I know. Don't worry, Sansa, I'm not going to do anything," he assured her. "I know you need some time."

"I'm sorry..." Sansa whispered, even though Sandor had told her earlier that she did not have to apologize for anything. It wasn't her fault! "It's not you, it's me, I-"

"No, it's not you, it's _him,_ " Sandor rasped a bit angrily. _"That thrice-damned son of a bitch..._ "

Sansa didn't say anything. Sandor could notice that strange look that he had noticed on her earlier coming back, that sensation that something was off about Sansa... He wished he could take it away, but he didn't know how. He did know how to not make it worse.

"I won't sleep with you tonight," he told her. "It's not the right moment."

"But I love you..."

"I know. I know, little bird, and you have more than proven it to me just by coming here tonight. I don't need anything else."

Sansa smiled again. It wasn't that she wanted to sleep with Sandor ever again, it was just that she was exhausted, physically and mentally, and she needed to rest from those two weeks that she had lived. Just a little bit of rest, a short time to heal, and then she would be ready again to have Sandor again in every way that she could. Because she wanted him, oh, how much she wanted him... She was burning up with desire for him, and she ached to be in his arms and have him so to her all those things that she loved. She ached to feel him deep inside her and know that he was hers in every way. She just wasn't ready. Her body needed some time for itself... And knowing that Sandor was not just willing to give her that time, but that he had been the one that had decided that he was going to give her that time before she even realized herself that she needed it, was priceless. It was another one of the things that made her realize what an incredible and worthy man he was.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and the glimmer of desire returned to her eyes.

Sandor happily complied and his lips met her mouth in the dark. With his hands still on Sansa's hips, he rolled until he was laying on his back and Sansa was then the one that was on top of him, and he let her do with him and she pleased. He loved to see that genuine smile on her face, and he felt happy that he had done what he had thought was the right thing to do. He wouldn't touch her in any way that she did not wished to be touched, ever. He wasn't about to stop kissing her, though. Kissing her felt so good...

"I love you," Sansa whispered against his mouth. That felt even better. Knowing that she was speaking the truth when she said those words...

 _Gods, Sansa, what are you doing to me?_ he thought desperately in his mind.

"I love you too, little bird."

"Don't stop kissing me," she panted, and she kissed him more fiercely then. Sandor happily kissed her back with the same passion.

Alone time later they laid down on the bed, resting in each other's arms. Sansa fell asleep with her head on Sandor's chest, listening to his heartbeat, but he didn't fall asleep because he was afraid they would oversleep and be discovered by someone. He wasn't tired or sleepy anyways. He stayed there, guarding Sansa in her sleep, surrounding her with on of his arms and caressing her hair and her face and her back with his free hand. He didn't stop watching her for a single moment, and he smiled when he heard her whisper his name in her sleep.

When the first rays of sunlight started showing in the horizon he gently woke her up. It was time for her to go back to her bedroom and act as if she had been there the entire night since she arrived in the mansion. While Sansa put on her top Sandor opened the door of the bedroom and looked up and down the hallway, making sure that there was no one there. When he saw that the hallway was empty he kissed Sansa goodbye, and he watched her sneak back to her bedroom with a smile.

He wasn't sad to let her go that time, because he knew that in a few hours he could be with her again.


	35. Behind the Portrait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry. It has important details, though, I promise! :)

Ned Stark II was doing what children did best: explore every single corner of the mansion with eyes wide with wonder, even though he didn't have permission to do so. His parents had taken him with them when yet visited the Red Keep mansion. He had heard about the place many times, and he had seen it in TV and in pictures. Ned's mother had told him that they were going to leave Winterfell and they were going to move there because of his father's new job. He had been disappointed at first because he loved living in Winterfell, and he didn't really want to leave his school and his friends and everything and everyone that he knew, but now he was feeling more excited with those news. The Red Keep was impressive and beautiful, and he liked King's Landing. He would make new friends. He would discover new places. He would have a new life. Besides, it wasn't as if he could protest; his father was now the new President of the nation, and he had to live in the President's house, of course.

His mother Talisa had told him to stay in the parlor with them, but Ned had snuck away when neither his mother or his father were watching. He had walked through the hallways of the Red Keep mansion, which seemed to be very empty to him, just as many of the rooms. The Baratheon/Lannister family was moving away and they had taken away from the mansion all their belongings, leaving behind only the pieces of furniture that belonged to the mansion since forever and not to them. Soon, those empty rooms would be decorated with Stark belongings and occupied by the Stark family. Ned couldn't wait to be able to play in all those giant and luxurious rooms that looked like they were taken from a castle in a fantasy book. Winterfell was magnificent too, but it was more plain than that plain, it had less details.

His curious dark brown eyes, almost black, roamed all over the sculptures in one of the wide hallways, and he opened his mouth in awe when he saw the splendorous dining room meant to host dozens and dozens of people. He smiled when he saw the enormous and beautiful crystal almost hanging from the ceiling. The light that came through the windows reflected on the crystals and created hundreds of tiny rainbows on the red walls.

Ned decided to explore other places of the mansion, and he happened upon the office of the President. He knew it was that office because he recognized it from pictures of when his grandfather was Vice President and he had meetings with President Robert Baratheon. Ned was sure that he was definitely not supposed to enter that office, but he did it anyways. He left the door open a few inches behind him, and he walked towards the center of the office. There was a big dark mahogany desk in front of French windows that led to the back gardens of the Red Keep mansion. Ned had read somewhere that those windows were bulletproof, and so the President was safe inside his office.

Ned also knew that that office, and the entire mansion really, hadn't belonged to the President in more than a year. He knew that his aunt Sansa and her husband, his new uncle Joffrey, had been living in the mansion after his father, President Baratheon, died. Robert Baratheon was serving the third year of his second term in office when he was assassinated, and after Ned's grandfather was killed soon after and couldn't take his place as the new President, the Secretary of State Doran Martell had become the President. He should have moved to the Red Keep mansion, but he decided to leave the family of late President Baratheon in the mansion until Westeros chose a new President. Now the roles were inverted, and the President was a Stark and the Vice President was a Baratheon. Ned found it funny.

He looked at the black leader chair that was behind the desk. That was the chair were the President sat to do his job. Would his father allow him to sit there sometime and let him pretend that he was some kind of important person? Ned hoped so. Maybe he would end up being an important politician when he was older too, just like his father and grandfather; maybe one day he would become President too! A little practice on the seat of the President wouldn't be a bad thing, then.

A portrait that was hanging on the wall called his attention then. It was very big, and it was of Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark, smiling and shaking hands. They had been best friends since childhood and anyone could see it just by looking at that portrait. Ned had known both of them, and he had loved his grandfather very much. He had also known President Baratheon, and he had thought that it was a very funny man. He had been fat, and he had loved to drink wine, and he had made tons of not appropriate jokes that scandalized grandma Cat but made everyone else laugh. Ned didn't understand many of them, but some the ones he did understand were great. He missed both grandpa Ned and uncle Robert (he called everyone in the Baratheon family "uncle") very much.

Ned approached the portrait and examined it. He remembered how he had seen in many movies that there were usually things hidden behind that kind of portraits in mansions. There were sometimes letters hidden there, important documents, secret things, or even safes! Ned knew that there was a safe behind a portrait like that in Winterfell, but he didn't know of his father had anything locked inside of it. He wondered if there would be a safe behind that portrait too?

He walked over to the portrait, which was even bigger than he was and looked heavy. Ned stood on one side of the portrait and tried to move it a little bit away from the wall. He peeked inside the narrow space that was between the wall and the back of the portrait, and he smiled. There it was! A safe!

Now he was even more curious than he was before. What kind of things would be hidden inside that safe! He knew that he could never open it, but he really wanted to...

"What are you doing?" a voice behind him suddenly startled him and made him jump. He turned around and let go of the portrait, which slammed back against the wall, and he found Joffrey Baratheon standing in front of him. Ned hadn't heard him come inside the office.

"Uncle Joffrey!" he exclaimed, scared rather than excited. He was never excited to meet his uncle Joffrey. In the few times that he had met him, Joffrey had managed to give Ned the creeps.

The blond young man was looking at the young boy with one of his eyebrows raised. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was dressed with an expensive black suit. Ned hadn't seen his aunt Sansa's husband many times, but in all those times he had found the man to be scary. He wasn't like his father, who had been welcoming and warm and funny. Ned felt uncomfortable in his uncle's presence. Adults might think that he was being ridiculous and childish, and that was why he didn't say it to anyone, but he thought there was something dark about his uncle Joffrey, something... evil.

"I'm sorry, I was just looking," he murmured, looking down at his shoes.

"I see. And who gave you permission?" Joffrey asked him in a severe tone.

"No one," little Ned admitted. "Mom told me to stay with her and Dad in the parlor, but I didn't obey."

Joffrey realized his time of voice had been a tad too serious before, and so he softened his voice so that he did not sound so severe when he spoke again. He didn't want the boy to go complaining about him to his parents and cause him any trouble.

"That's very bad, Eddard. Good boys don't disobey their mothers, or they get punished."

 _Mom never punishes me,_ Ned thought, but he didn't say it out loud:

"I know," he said, nodding his head. "But I wasn't doing anything wrong, uncle Joffrey, I was just looking!"

He raised his head to stare at his uncle's eyes again, but he found that the man wasn't looking at him anymore. Joffrey had set his green eyes on the portrait behind of which Ned had been looking, and the boy thought there was something odd in his gaze... Suspicion, fear, nervousness, and bad intentions. It was the same look that he saw that villains had in the movies that he liked to watch.

"Why were you looking behind the portrait?" Joffrey asked. The nervousness that was reflected in his eyes was now present in his voice as well.

Little Eddard shrugged innocently. "I just wanted to see if there was a safe like in the movies."

"Well, now you've seen it," Joffrey said, and he forced a smile on his face. "You are a curious little boy... Now come with me to see your parents. There must be wondering where you are."

He made a quick movement of his head to signal towards the door, trying to urge Ned to move away from the portrait and walk towards the door to leave the office. There was certain urgency to his voice... Something compelled Eddard to not move and stay exactly where he was. A moment of bravery overcame him, and quite unexpectedly he said, surprising even himself:

"I don't like you."

The fake smile disappeared immediately from Joffrey's face. He stared at the kid in shock, while the boy kept staring at him with the closest thing that there could be to defiance in the eyes of a young child.

After a few seconds, the shock disappeared from Joffrey's face and was replaced by another fake smile, though he was still confused.

"What?" he asked, almost chuckling, like if he couldn't understand that a small child had said those words to him. He sounded offended too, but at the same time he sounded terribly curious. "And why not?"

 _Because you seem mean,_ Ned wanted to say, but he couldn't say that. How would he explain a thing that he could not exactly prove? Joffrey was always charming to everyone, and he was now Ned's uncle! If anyone asked him why he thought that the man was mean, he would have nothing to say other than his instinct told him that Joffrey was mean. Then no one would take him seriously ever again...

But no one would make Ned change his mind. He didn't like Joffrey. His uncle wanted a reason? He would have it.

"My uncle Theon didn't like you," he said, in a serious voice that he had almost never used in his life, other than when he was very upset or very sad. "And my uncle Theon is dead."

Why did no one see that there was something weird there?

Joffrey's smile was thin now, and it looked like he was biting his lips to keep him from saying something.

"Your uncle Theon was killed by sharks," Joffrey pointed out.

"I know."

 _You look like one_ , Ned almost said.

He found something else to say instead, another reason...

"My grandpa Ned didn't like you either," he murmured, and he lowered his gaze to the carpet beneath the mahogany desk. "He's dead too."

He felt a bit of fear and worry suddenly. Did all the people that disliked his uncle end up dead? He hoped not, he didn't want to die!

Because he was staring at the carpet, he didn't notice the way in which Joffrey's hands had turned to fists at his sides. He was clenching his hands so had that his knuckles were white and his fingernails buried themselves painfully in his palms.

"You should really go with your parents, Ned," Joffrey said, trying as hard as he could to speak with a normal and serene tone of voice.

Ned didn't say anything else, he just did as he was told. It was true, he had to go back with his parents, they must have been looking for him... Without looking at his uncle's eyes again he walked towards the door and left the office, feeling relieved to be finally away from the man's presence. He ran towards the parlor and disappeared down the hallway.

Joffrey stayed behind in the office for a couple of minutes. He closed the door of the office and locked it, and then he walked over to the portrait. He took it down from the wall and was left standing in front of the safe in the wall. He put the combination, and the safe opened, revealing a long red leather box. Joffrey took it put of the safe and held it carefully in his hands, watching it with sick admiration. Very, very slowly, he opened the box...

Inside there was a dagger. A long, wide, and thin blade with a carved ivory handle. The blade had blood stains on it, stains that Joffrey hadn't wanted to remove because they filled him with such a sick pleasure... That blade brought back memories of a night that happened more than a year ago. He could still feel the warm blood of the man on his hands, and he could hear the screams of Sansa begging him to stop reverberating in his ears...

Sweet memories for him. That blade was his trophy, his reminder that no one could stand between him and what he wanted. Not even the great Eddard Stark.

A sadistic smile twisted his expression, and he thought about what his new nephew had said to him. Ah, children were so innocent, and at the same time so wise... They could know the truth even before adults did, but they were not capable of knowing what that truth truly meant... It amused Joffrey, and still he hoped that the kid would keep his mouth shut about what his opinions about his uncle were...

He closed the box again, but he didn't put it in the safe. That wasn't his office anymore, and he had to take that knife away from there so that Robb Stark would not find it. He out it inside one of the boxes that had his things inside so that they could be taken to his new home, and then he closed the safe and hug the portrait on the wall again. Then he left the office and locked the door behind him.

He had to assist to his meeting with Robb Stark and his wife Talisa Maegyr, and welcome them to their new home... _ **His**_ home. He would have to say good bye to it... for the moment.

Joffrey looked at the key that he held in his hand, the key to the front gate of the Red Keep mansion. He would be giving it to Robb Stark that day, but it didn't matter, he would get it back someday.

If there was one thing that Joffrey was completely sure of, it was that he always won in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of SanSan in the next chapter. LOTS of it!!!!


	36. It's A Dangerous Love Affair.

Sandor stood in a dark corner of the room, away from all the people around him that were doing other things, and he couldn't take his eyes off Sansa for even one second.

The young woman was in the center of the large room, focusing on the task at hand. She was getting ready to start shooting the last day of filming for one of her music videos, and she was surrounded by cameras and make dancers. They had travelled all the way to the Vale to film that video, and there were two locations that they had visited. The first location had been the top of the Mountains of the Moon which surrounded the vale, and they were a dangerous but beautiful landscape and so half of Sansa's video had been filmed there. The second location was the Eyrie, and ancient stone castle on the top of one of the mountains, called the Giant's Lance. The castle had once been property of kings and queens that ruled there during the Middle Ages, but it was inhabited no more. Now it was a treasure of the nation, a monument for all of the citizens to admire and sometimes visit. It seemed like a place taken out of a fairy tale and brought to reality.

The part of Sansa's video that had been filmed in the Mountains of the Moon was the part of the song that had lyrics to it. It wasn't like most of Sansa's pop songs, which were happy and joyful and full of rhythm. The song for which they were filming the video was one of her most intense songs, a song that spoke of oppression, but it also spoke of newly-discovered freedom. It spoke of pain, and it spoke of passion. It spoke of hate, and it spoke of love. It was an intense song with mixed and powerful emotions, and Sansa's voice performed it extraordinarily in a magical way. Sandor had enjoyed watching her standing alone on the rocks of the too of the mountains, with her hair and her dress floating in the wind behind her. She had been wearing a long white dress of a very thin fabric that was translucent, but it had many layers that hid Sansa's body beneath it. The long train of the dress flew in the wind behind her, making her look like a goddess while she sang like an angel of music.

However, in the part of the video that was being filmed in the Eyrie the music was solely instrumental. The scene that were filmed there were supposed to be mixed in between scenes that happened in the Mountains of the Moon, and they were the scenes that told the story of the song in a more graphic way. Sansa danced in the Eyrie, and she had changed her dress. She was wearing a long black dress with an opening in the skirt that revealed her long leg when she walked and moved. The bodice of the dress had dark green and dark blue and dark purple undertones to it that were brighter when the light hit Sansa, and there were long black feathers on her shoulders and sleeves: raven feathers.

Apart from the dress, Sansa's dark make-up that gave her a feline look created a great contrast from her look full of light in the Mountains of the Moon, and her hair was in a long, complicated and thick braid instead of loose. She looked stunning either way, and Sandor couldn't take his hungry eyes off her.

Sadly, he wasn't the only one unable to take his eyes off her. All the men from the crew were looking at her, and the director, and the choreographers, and the dancers. Sandor wasn't liking the dancers. He didn't really mind the other men because they were far away from Sansa, and anyways, no matter where Sansa went men were looking at her. But the dancers... The dancers were getting too close for Sandor's taste. He was standing in his corner of the room, where the bodyguard was supposed to stand not interfering with the filming. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he had his hands in fists. They music had started and the cameras were filming. Sansa and the dancers had started to dance... It would all be alright if it was any other kind of dance.

But it was a tango.

A thrice-damned, buggering fucking sensual tango.

Sansa started dancing alone, slowly. She looked at the floor at all times while she sensually moved her arms and hands in the air up above her head. The music was as soft and slow, melancholic, just like her movements were. Then one of the dancers entered the scene and held her waist, pulling her closer to him. She kept looking at the floor at all times, and their dance was strange. The sensation that it gave away was that the man was the one leading the dance, while Sansa was just letting him guide her in a not very enthusiastic way. Then all of a sudden the man pushed her away, and Sansa fell into the arms of an awaiting second dancer.

Sansa looked up for the first time since the dance had started, and the locked her eyes on the dancer's eyes. She was being an actress through and through during that dance, and the emotions that the girl of the video was supposed to be feeling were imminent in Sansa's blue eyes. While her gaze had been empty and sad and melancholic during the first part of the dance, as soon as her eyes were set on the second man they were filled first with surprise, then his curiosity. They started dancing slowly and softly, though a bit more intensely than in the first part of the dance. They danced, moving up and down the great circular room and between the big white stone columns. The music was more intense than before, more passionate. The string music played in a way that made the blood in everyone's veins feel like they were lava.

Sandor had to admit that he was captivated by both the music and the dance, until he came back to reality and remembered that that was Sansa. He watched while the second dancer spun Sansa around until her back was pressed against him. His hands caressed her body slowly, intensely, with feverish and burning passion. Sandor saw red, and he had to fight the urge to go and punch the dancer in the face.

 _They are just dancing,_ he reminded himself. _It's like in the movie, they are just acting. At least here they aren't kissing..._

No, they weren't kissing, but seeing another man's hands roam Sansa's body like that right in front of him was driving him nuts.

Suddenly the first dancer snatched Sansa away from the second dancer's arms. The music and the dance took a darker and fiercer twist. The dance between Sansa and the first dancer was passionate like her dance with the second dancer had been, but it was more aggressive, and it resembled a fight for power, for dominance. As jealous as Sandor felt while watching Sansa dancing with those men, he became captivated by the performance. It was like a game of strength, or an attempt to create submission and at the same time a fight against it.

Sansa broke free of the dance with the first dancer, and danced towards the center of the room. Then both men, the first and the second man, approached her and danced around her slowly, encircling her like predators did to their prey. They touched her with their hands; the first dancer's touches were possessive and rough, while the second dancer's touches were gentle and loving. Sansa stood between them with her eyes closed; her expression was that of confusion, like she was fighting a war within her and she wanted to break free of the invisible chains that held her. Her movements between the two dancing men made it feel like they were powerful magnets, and she was the metal piece that was caught between them, going from one to the other.

The two men separated from her and moved to the far corners of the room, but Sansa wasn't left alone. Half a dozen other male dancers appeared from the background suddenly, and they encircled Sansa, submerging her in a sea of hands that wanted to hold her. She danced with the first man that held her, and then she moved away from him only to fall I to the arms of a second dancer, and a third, and a fourth. She couldn't break free. The music was a dramatically overwhelming then; the notes made you feel like you were in a crowded room and there was no wait out, which was just like Sansa felt in the dance. The music and the dance and Sansa's expression and her movements and the dancers created perfectly a sensation of dizziness, of suffocation, or thirst, anxiety, a need to air...

A minute passed, and Sansa closed her eyes again and gave up; she just stopped fighting, and allowed the dancers to guide her between them like driftwood moved along the current of a river. She succumbed to their touches, surrendered to their actions, fell defeated under the weight of the music and the heat of all those bodies around her...

And then the men dispersed around the room and disappeared, leaving it empty. Sansa began falling to the floor, but the two original dancers, her owner and her lover, appeared again. As Sansa was falling, the first dancer, her owner, held her by the waist. Sansa's back was on his knee, but her head had had fallen on the knee of the second dancer, her lover. And the dance ended like that, with the first dancer holding Sansa's waist and her body resting on his knee, but the second dancer was gently his king her back and her arm, and he had lowered his face until his lips were almost touching Sansa's.

The music stopped like that, violently, just like the dance had been. Sansa and the two dancers stood there for a couple of seconds while the cameras stopped filming, and then the entire crew broke into thunderous applause and the two dancers helped Sansa get up. She was smiling, and she looked immensely satisfied and happy. She thanked everyone that told her that she had done a splendid job, and she even blushed a little. Sandor smiled a little bit when he saw her so happy and satisfied with her work; however, that smile disappeared when he saw Sansa hugging the dancers.

 _Bloody hell, are you kidding me?_ he asked to himself. He shouldn't be getting jealous of that, Sansa was just thanking in her own way the people that had been working with her! _I should stop being such an idiot or one of these days I'm going to give myself an ulcer!_

He decided to ignore his stupid jealousy. What was he going to do, be jealous his whole life every time a man was near Sansa? No, he couldn't do that! He would be a jerk if he did that... He decided to calm down, but he couldn't help but crash his elbow against the second dancer when he walked past him.

"Hey!" the man protested, but Sandor ignored him.

He approached Sansa, who was still smiling. She looked radiant. She smiled even more when she saw him.

"Did you see that?!" she squealed.

"Aye," he nodded. "You were... very good."

You were fucking perfect, he wanted to say, but he was afraid he might rise suspicion among the people around him if he said those words to Sansa. He could hardly keep the devotion that he felt for her away from his eyes, so how could he hide it from his voice?

Sansa walked towards the director of the video when he called for her, and she watched the videos that had been filmed with all the cameras around the room. Both of them were satisfied with the results, after a whole day of dancing over and over again. The director announced that that was officially the ending of the filming of the video, and he congratulated Sansa. She squealed and hugged him, and then she thanked the whole crew.

Sandor went back to the corner where he had been standing before and where he was going to wait for Sansa to go and change and then return so that they could leave that place. Sansa was about to leave that large circular room when suddenly one of the men that had been in the room watching the filming approached her and started talking to her. Sandor narrowed his eyes and glared at the man. It was Sansa's agent, Petyr Baelish.

Sandor had been observing the man, and it hadn't escaped him how the man's eyes sparkled with lust whenever he stared at Sansa. Baelish wanted her, and that made Sandor dislike him deeply, but not because of jealousy, but because of the way in which Petyr looked at Sansa. Sandor could understand that the man desired Sansa, lots of men did, but Baelish's eyes... There was something sick in his eyes. He looked at Sansa like she was an object that he could posses, a sweet candy that he could eat for his own pleasure. He looked at Sansa just like Joffrey looked at her. And Sandor didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit. But the man was Sansa's agent, so what was he to do? Sansa didn't seem to have anything against the man that helped her create her wonderful and successful career, so it wasn't Sandor's place to say anything.

Petyr and Sansa chatted a little bit. He was surely congratulating him, and Sansa was thanking him. She hugged him as well and Petyr hugged her back. Sandor grunted angrily when he saw that Baelish's hands were a bit lower in Sansa's back than they should be...

Sansa let go of her agent, and then she disappeared through a door to head towards the room where she was going to change back into her normal clothes. No one really noticed that Sansa was leaving the room except Sandor and Petyr. Petyr didn't realize that Sandor was glaring at him from across the room, and after a few moments he disappeared through the same room through which Sansa had exited the room. He was going after her.

 _Oh no,_ Sandor rasped in his mind, walking towards the door with the full intention to follow the man and stop him. _Over my dead body._

Maybe he was over reacting, maybe he wasn't. Sandor wasn't willing to stay there and take the risk.

The door lead to a narrow and long hallway, and at the end there was a corner that lead to another hallway. Petyr wasn't there, so he had already turned the corner, and Sandor quickly walked towards there, not making any noise. When he reached the second hallways he found some closed doors at the end in the left side of the hallway; those doors belonged to rooms, and Sansa was in one of them but Sandor didn't know which one was hers. He was about to start opening every single door when suddenly he heard voices that came from the last door at the end of the corridor, which wasn't completely closed. He recognized Sansa's voice immediately.

"Petyr, you startled me!" she gasped.

"Sorry. I had to tell you again that you were magnificent, Sansa," Petyr Baelish said.

"Thank you. Now would you mind leaving? I have to change."

"I can help you with that if you want," Petyr said, and Sandor felt his stomach turning.

"What? No, Petyr, it's okay. Now please, get out, I'm in a hurry."

"Your husband doesn't have to know," Baelish said in a deep, lusty voice.

 _"What?"_ Sansa's voice was now filled with disbelief. "Petyr, what are you talking about? What are you doing?"

"I know that you don't love him. I can get you away from him. I can give you everything that you want, Sansa, you need only ask..."

"No, Petyr, no, I don't know what you are talking about. Now please, leave-"

She stopped talking then and she gasped, right in the same moment that Sandor reached the door and completely opened it. He found Sansa still dressed in the black dress with raven feathers, and she was being held by Petyr. He was kissing her.

Before Sandor could even react and do something about it, Sansa pushed Petyr away from he with all her strength and then she threw her hand back and slapped him with it full in the face. When her hand hit Petyr, a loud noise filled the small room, and Petyr's head turned to the side. He took two steps back, and then he put his hand on his cheek, which was starting to swell and turning an ugly shade of red. He looked at Sansa with completely stunned eyes. She looked very upset.

"Sansa..." Petyr Baelish started saying, forcing a small smile on his lips. "Sansa, darling, you know I mean well... I can help you."

"No," she muttered, and she wasn't going to change her mind.

Baelish took a small step towards her. He still had his hand on his cheek.

"Sansa-"

"Petyr, you are my agent and my friend, but I _will_ hit you again!"

Sandor decided to step into the scene then. His initial shock had already gone again and now he was just angry, angry that that son of a bitch had dared to touch Sansa without her permission and when she was giving no signs of wanting him to get anywhere near her, and angry that the man couldn't take a hint and realize that he wasn't wanted there. Sandor slammed the door open all of a sudden, making both Sansa and Baelish jump a little, startled by the sudden and unexpected presence of the bodyguard there.

 _"Alright, that's **enough**_ ," Sandor rasped. He grabbed Petyr Baelish by the back of his neck- the man was a little thing and not very strong at all, so for a man like Sandor he was easy to handle- and then he forced the man to move towards the door and then he kicked him out.

Petyr tripped and fell to the floor. He was getting back on his feet with the full intention to go back inside the room and talk to Sansa again, but Sandor stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind his back. He stood in front of the door like a guard dog, and he glared at Petyr menacingly.

"Don't even think about it," he muttered, and Petyr scoffed.

 _"Get out of the way, Hound,_ " he said, using Sandor's nickname.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"What will you do, hit me? The others will call the police."

"No, I won't do that. I will make a phone call to the President and tell him that you are harassing his sister. And maybe I'll also call the Vice President and tell him you kissed his wife," Sandor told him.

He could see Petyr clenching his jaw and becoming furious, but the man wasn't as stupid as to try to get in an argument with a man more than twice his size, and even less stupid to get in trouble with the two most powerful men of the nation. Cursing under his breath, Petyr Baelish turned around and walked away from there, disappearing down the hallway.

Sandor stood there guarding Sansa's door until she came out already changed, back into normal jeans and a white sweater. She looked down to the floor, looking ashamed, and Sandor raised an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She nodded, and after making sure that there was no one in the hallway that could see them Sandor held her chin so that she would look at him.

"Hey, it's not your fault. It's his fault, he's a douchebag."

"I just never thought he would dare to do it..."

"Well, he did. But don't worry, he won't be trying it again," Sandor said, and he chuckled. "I didn't know you could slap like that!"

The admiration and surprise in his voice made Sansa smile, and she shrugged.

"Me neither!" she admitted.

Still smiling, both of them walked away from that place. Sansa said a quick good bye to the men that were still in the large circular room, and then she and Sandor left the palace of Eyrie. The headed towards were they had parked the car, which was next to where everyone had parked their own cars. Sandor grimaced when he saw Petyr Baelish's silver sports car not far away from when they were, but his eyes became wide when he saw that some birds had pooped all over it and left in a disgusting state. Not able to hold back, Sandor threw his head back and roared with laugher. Sansa notices what Sandor was laughing about and gasped, and then she hit him in the belly.

"Don't laugh like that!" she exclaimed, but she had to admit it was funny, and she chuckled.

Sandor was still laughing by the time they got inside their black car, a black Mercedes SUV, and Sansa had started laughing as well.

"It's not funny!" she kept saying, but she was laughing so much she had tears in her eyes. "Sandor!"

"It is!" he laughed. "It is funny!"

 _Maybe karma does exist after all_ , Sandor thought as he started the car and drove away from them.

He stopped laughing shortly after, and he focused on the road. The hated driving in the state of the Vale. The roads were all bumpy and old and narrow and dangerous. The landscapes that surrounded the roads were rocky, and many accident happened because of that. Sandor wanted to get out of those roads and get back to the hotel as soon as possible. Besides, the sky was getting filled with black clouds... There was a storm coming.

"Are you okay?" Sansa's voice came from the backseat. Sandor nodded. "You are not mad?"

"Of course not! I already told you, your agent is a fucking idiot."

"He's not bad doing his job, but when he gets personal he can be a pain," Sansa admitted. "You just saw him at his worse. He had never done that."

"If he ever does it again I'll punch his teeth out. Though I see you've got it covered."

"Oh, shut up..." Sansa murmured playfully.

Lightning illuminated the sky then, making it have an electrical blue color for a second. Sansa gasped, and Sandor cursed. He had hoped that the storm wouldn't start until later. He didn't like those roads during storms, if it started raining he would be forced to pull over somewhere safe until the storm stopped...

...As if his mind had caused it with magic powers after having that thought, it starting raining. More lightning illuminated the sky.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he rasped, and Sansa frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to have to pull over, Sansa. These roads get ducking crazy with rain, I won't risk having an accident with you inside the car."

"Is it really that bad?" she asked.

"The only place where the roads get worse with rain than the Vale is the Riverlands, because they flood immediately. Here the visibility is bad, and I don't want to drive off the fucking road and get us both killed," he explained to her. "Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow?"

"No, I'm done with filming and everything else. And our flight is for the day after tomorrow, I was just planning to stay at the hotel..."

"Ok, then there's no problem..."

Sandor was a reckless man and he usually did stuff without caring about the consequences, but he wasn't about to be reckless with Sansa in the car. The roads in the Vale were full of curves and the road was next to some cliffs. He did not want to drive off them and risk having Sansa getting hurt, or worse. Besides, the storm was getting worse. Rain was pouring, and lightning struck everywhere. Yes, that was going to be a nasty storm...

Sandor found a safe place to pull over and let the storm pass; he left the lights on so that any cars that would maybe drive through that road could see them. He looked at the rear view mirror to see if Sansa was alright, and he was surprised to see her smiling. He was expecting to find her upset.

"Why are you smiling?" he wondered with curiosity.

"Because I'm happy."

"You are happy?" Sandor repeated, surprised. He hadn't expected to hear that, not after that damn kiss and the storm. "Why?"

"Because I'm here with you," Sansa whispered. She got closer to Sandor by leaning over the side of Sandor's seat. She kissed the side of his face, smiling against his skin. "And no one can bother us here."

Before Sandor could say anything, Sansa grabbed his arm and forced him to climb out of the driver's seat and into the backseat with her. She was giggling like a cute mischievous little girl, and Sandor chuckled.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but Sansa shut him up by kissing him full in the mouth. It surprised Sandor for a fraction of a second, but he immediately have in to the kiss. He tangled his finger's in Sansa's hair, and his lips caressed hers softly.

"Umm..." he murmured after they parted from each other. "Wouldn't you rather have one of those fancy dancers from the Eyrie?"

Sansa gaped, staring at him with disbelief at first, feeling deeply offended by his words. How could he believe even for one second that she might prefer someone else over him, after all that they had been through...!

...But she didn't say anything, because she noticed the way in which Sandor's eyes were narrowed and his lips were righty pressed together. She smirked. She knew that expression very well.

"You are jealous," she said. It wasn't a question.

Sandor denied it, of course. "I am not."

"You are! You are jealous!"

He glared at her whole she laughed. _Does she think this is fucking funny?!_

"And what do you want me to do, with all those pretty boys getting their hands all over you?!" Images of the dance, and of how sensual it had been and of how Sansa had moved in such a deducing way flooded his mind. Of course, those images were accompanied by that of all the men that had their hands on her, touched her, caressed her... Yes, he would admit it! It made him jealous like a mad old dog, and he wanted to pull all those men's eyes out. He also wanted to chop their hands off, so that they would learn that the little bird was his, his, only his...

He leaned in to her to kiss her, and se didn't protest. She welcomed his mouth against hers, and when his tongue touched her lips and parted them she moaned softly. The movements of his tongue were soft at first, provoking sharp and suddenly sparks of pleasure to run down their spines... It was slow but passionate, provoking, like the beginning of the tango had been.

"My poor, jealous, dumb Sandor..." Sansa said when they stopped for air, looking at him with eyes half closed. "I don't want any of them, only you. Besides, they are married."

"And? So are you, and look," Sandor said. He wasn't saying any lie by saying those words. Sansa was a married woman, she shouldn't in a situation like that with him... But then again, her case was very special.

Sansa raised her hands and Sandor looked at them. His gaze darkened when he saw the wedding ring on Sansa's finger, but it softened again when he saw her taking it off. Sansa dropped the ring to the floor of the car without any care, not even minding where it fell. Then she cupped Sandor's face, and all the time her eyes were locked on his.

"I am only yours..." she whispered, and her words seemed to be echoed through the lighting that fell from the sky and the roaring thunder that sounded.

Sandor claimed her mouth again then, and that time he didn't stop. He stopped worrying about the lighting and thunder. He stopped worrying about the road. He couldn't even hear the rain that clashed against the windows. The world ceased to exist around him, and there was only Sansa.

The sound of their kissing and or their quick and deep breathing muted the sound of the thunder around them. As lighting illuminated the sky and filled the inside of the car with light, Sansa removed Sandor's jacket and threw it to the front of the car, where it wouldn't bother them. She cupped Sandor's face while they kissed, and then she fell back until she was laying on the backseat of the car with Sandor on top of her. His hands snuck underneath her sweater and the top that she was wearing underneath it, and he caressed her warm and soft skin.

It had been over a month and a half since Sansa came back from her honeymoon, and Sandor hadn't touched her yet. He had given her space and time and patience and care, but he could feel now that Sansa didn't need more time. He could feel her desire for him just in her movements, in the way that she kissed him, in the way that her soft and low moans filled his ears. And he could definitely feel his own desire and need for her. He felt it like a bomb that was about to explode inside of him... And they were locked inside a car. In the middle of a road where no one could find them or bother them.

He grabbed the lower part of the sweater, and Sansa sensed that he wanted to remove it, so she helped him do that. The sweater joined Sandor's jacket in the front of the car, and was soon followed by Sansa's top. Sansa smiled to Sandor, and he took the sight of her in with pleasure. She was wearing a lace bra again, this time black. He moved one of his hands and cupped her breast with it, and he squeezed gently. Sansa but her lip and arched her back, bringing her body closer to his.

"Sandor..." she whispered. Sandor cupped her other breast with his hand. He lowered himself on top of Sansa to kiss her again, and then Sansa's fingers found the buttons of his shirt and unfastened them. Once she got rid of all the buttons she pulled the shirt off Sandor and threw it to the side, and the bare skin of their torsos were pressed together, sharing their warmth. The next thing that Sansa's hands found was Sandor's felt, and she proceeded to take it off. As she did so, her fingers accidentally grazed his hardness through his pants, making him hiss.

Once Sansa got rid of Sandor's belt she tried to unzip his pants, but he stopped her. She opened her eyes and looked at him confused.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sandor asked, not wanting to do anything that Sansa wasn't ready for yet. He did not care how difficult it was for him; if Sansa said "no," then he would stop and he wouldn't touch her.

"Yes," Sansa whispered, and Sandor could tell in her eyes that it was the truth. He didn't ask any more questions then, and he took his pants off.

He removed Sansa's jeans himself, and the light of the lightning that came through the windows allowed him to appreciate the detail of the lace of her black panties. He wanted to pull them off her right that moment, but he didn't. Instead he kissed again, but the kiss was more urgent, feverish. Sansa playfully bit Sandor's lip, and then he filled her mouth with his tongue, making her gasp and moan. Their bodies were pressed together, separated only by their underwear. Sansa's legs were spread for Sandor, and he had positioned himself between them. His groin was pressed against Sansa's woman's place, and could feel how hard he was for her. When Sandor moved his hips against hers and his hardness grazed her groin she moaned louder.

"Sansa..." Sandor groaned. He buried his face in Sansa's neck and kissed it and nipped at it. He wanted to leave a red mark there that signaled that she was his and he was hers and that would remind her of that moment every time she saw it in the mirror, but Sandor knew he couldn't do that. Instead he lowered his face to Sansa's full breast. He grabbed her bra and pulled it down on one side, revealing one full and large and soft soft breast, he he took her hardened nipple in his mouth. Sansa moaned louder as he sucked and licked and gently nibbled.

He massaged her other breast with his hand, but then he turned his mouth's attention to that breast, pulling the bra down and leaving it bare. He licked her nipple with his tongue in circles before taking it into his mouth and sucking. He gently nibbled at Sansa's nipple, making her squirm underneath him.

"Sandor... touch me..." she panted.

Sandor's mouth left her breasts and returned back to her lips, silencing her moans and panting with passionate kissing. While their tongues and lips resumed their erotic dance, Sandor hands travelled down the side of Sansa's body, caressing her skin which burned up under his touch, until he reached her black lace panties. He slid his hand underneath the fabric and touched Sansa's soft curls, and then he found her woman's place, soaked wet for him. When his fingers touched the little sensitive knot of flesh between Sansa's legs, she moaned louder, and pleasure spread through her body from that little spot like electricity. Sandor continued stroking that sensitive spot, and with each stroke Sansa squirmed more and moaned louder underneath him, making his cock twitch with his own pleasure at seeing Sansa so excited by his ministrations.

Sansa caressed Sandor's body with her hands while he pleasured her. She had her eyes closed and felt like she was going to Heaven over and over with each one of Sandor's touches. One of her hands caressed his arm, feeling the big and hard muscle underneath his smooth skin. Her other hand roamed his back, and the small movements that his muscles did made her shiver when she felt them under her palm.

The movement's of Sandor's hand in her woman's place became faster and more intense, moving in circles and sending bolts of pleasure all through her body. She felt something building inside of her, like a storm that was forming in her core. She couldn't make her body stop squirming, she felt like she had lost all control of her own self.

 _"Sandor,"_ she moaned as she stopped kissing him, and she felt an explosion of pleasure that made her entire body shake. She held on to Sandor, not realizing that she was burying her nails into the skin of his back.

He grinned as he saw the little bird have her orgasm, and he felt his cox getting even harder and aching inside his boxers, desiring to get inside inside her and make her completely his. He removed his hand from inside Sansa's panties and put in on her hip. He waited until Sansa stopped shaking and moaning underneath him; she regained control of herself, but she continued panting. Her body was covered in sweat, and the sweet scent of her pleasure filled the car. The windows were fogged from the heat that emanated from their bodies.

Sansa opened her eyes and continued panting, looking at the ceiling of the car with a glimmering gaze lost in distant places. Her ragged breaths made her chest raise and press against Sandor's naked chest. He continued looking at her, and moved her hair away from her face with his fingers, grazing her cheek as he did so. Sansa's eyes met Sandor then, and in unison they moved and sat up on the backseat of the car. Sansa sat herself on Sandor's lap, encircling his hips with her long and bare legs. She rocked her hips against Sandor's, making a pleasure groan escape from him. He held her tight and pulled him close to him until their bodies were as close as humanly possibly. Sansa tilted her head back, arching and exposing her neck. Sandor kissed it hungrily again, and Sansa's hands went to her back and unclasped her bra. As the piece of undergarment slides off her and completely left bare her upper body, lightning struck, illuminating the whole Vale. The light filled the car in an eerie way, and that light made the desire in their eyes stand out in an overwhelming way. Sandor and Sansa stared into each other's eyes, and as the sound of thunder reverberated in the sky yet again, they kissed.

Not long after, they stood in each other's arms completely naked. There wasn't a single piece of clothing separating their bodies, and Sansa was once again sitting on Sandor's lap, with her legs around him. Sandor's hard cock grazed her entrance; both of them felt a burning need for each other that needed to be satiated, but they did not wish to rush things. They hadn't been like that in a long time, and now time was all they had, at least during a few hours. They wanted to feel all of each other, have all of each other... That was why they took things slow and calmly, even though Sandor felt like a starving beast had awakened inside of him, and that beast needed to satiate his hunger... Hunger for Sansa.

Sansa softly pushed him back until he was laying on his back on the backseat of the car. He couldn't completely lie down and he had to lean his back against the door because he was too big for the car, but it was alright. Lightning illuminated the inside of the car again. Sandor though that he had never seen a sight so perfect than the one he was contemplating at the moment; Sansa sitting naked on too of him, looking at him with eyes glimmering with intense desire, and her hair cascading down her back and torso in auburn waves that were dark red in the light of the storm. She was a goddess, and no one could convince Sandor of the contrary.

Sansa lean in until she could kiss Sandor's lips, and then she kissed his strong jaw covered in a short beard, and she kissed his neck and his shoulder and his strong and muscular chest. Her hands caressed him there, brushing the hair of his chest with the tips of her fingers. She left a trace of kisses all over his body, and then she reached his aching and hard cock, and before Sandor could realize what was happening Sansa had taking most of his wide length inside her mouth. He groaned louder than before, and his clenched fist punched the back of the passenger seat when he felt waves of pleasure run through every single cell of his body. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting it rest against the door of the car as Sansa worked her way on his cock with her mouth. Her lips surrounded him in the most exquisite of ways, the moisture of her lips making him lose himself. Each time that Sansa's tongue licked as she sucked him hard made him groan louder than before. His hands found her head and got tangled in her hair and she moved up and down his length. He never imagined that something could feel so good. Sansa had never done that to him, and he had never asked. He let her do to him whatever she wanted to do, and did to her whatever she allowed him to do to her. He had pleasure her with his mouth before, but this was a first for them, and as surprised as he was, he was loving it.

" _Sansa,_ " he groaned, nearly breathless. He felt he could not go on much longer, he felt about to explode. He hated fire, but he felt on fire indeed, like there was a massive ball of flames inside his chest growing bigger and hotter with each passing second. "Sansa... Stop, before... Before I..."

He could hardly speak, there was a lump in his throat. Sansa understood, and she stopped sucking him. She blew on his tip, making him hiss, before she went back to the posture in which she was before. While Sandor was still panting and leaning his back against the door of the car, Sansa positioned herself on top of him. When Sandor felt the top of his pulsing cock graze Sansa's wet entrance he raised his hands and help her hips, and guided her down and Sansa lowered her body. Sandor entered her, and a convulsion shook Sansa's body, and a loud moan scared her lips. She bent over for a few second as she got used to Sandor filling her, and then she started moving on top of him, letting his cock slide in and out of her in a slow rhythm. Sandor watched her bewitched as she moved on top of him, her eyes always locked on his. When lightning illuminated them once again, Sansa made her movements quicker. She panted loudly, moaning and crying out loud softly as she rode Sandor. One of his hands left her hips and roamed her body, caressing her as she moved on top of him and he cupped one of her bouncing breasts, squeezing it and making Sansa moan louder. She bent over again when a sudden bolt of pleasure shook her body, and Sandor sat up on the backseat with her still on top of him and held in his arms.

More lightning fell, one after the other, continuously illuminating them. Holding Sansa in his arms, Sandor started moving himself, sliding in and out of Sansa in movements that were more intense than the ones she was performing, and he buried his face in between her neck and her shoulder while he heard her moaning so loudly that he couldn't hear the thunder anymore. The force of his movements made Sansa fall back, taking Sandor with him, and now she was the one that was laying on her back on the backseat again and he was on top of her. He grunted furiously as he moved in top of her, filling her up and reaching as far up inside of her as he could. He was worried that he might hurt her for a moment, but when he looked at her with a question look in his eyes she nodded to him encouragingly.

He fucked her so intensely and furiously that the entire car shook with their movements, and they lightning and thunder, which fell and sounded without pause at the moment, felt like music that was trying to catch up with the rhythm of the two lovers. Minutes passed, and Sandor knew he couldn't go on any longer. Both Sansa and him came at the same time, muffling the sound of thunder with their pleasure.

After they were done they laid there in each other's arms, panting and sweating and shaking for God knew how much time. They were so lost in themselves, in the heavy and strong smell of their love-making, in the sensations that crossed their bodies, that they could feel or sense or hear anything else than themselves and each other. Not even the storm existed for them any longer.

Feeling tired, but at the same time incredibly awake, Sandor reached for Sansa's face and kissed her lips. All the jealousy that he had felt easier in the day had completely vanished, destroyed by what had just happened. That, the passionate sex, the intense love, all those feelings and emotions... They just belonged to the two of them, and to no one else. He was hers, and she was his. He had no doubt of that.

They didn't speak after the act, it wasn't necessary. They kissed for some time, slowly, recovering from their love-making. Sansa was still shivering in Sandor's arms when they stopped kissing and she let her head rest of his chest. She surrounded his waist with her arm and kissed his chest before closing her eyes and falling asleep, exhausted by everything that had happened that day.

Sandor didn't sleep, though. He remained awake, wanting to experience every second that he had alone with Sansa and record it in his memory. As she slept next to him, not caring about the incredibly loud noise of the raging storm outside, he caressed her naked back and her arm and her hair, and contemplated her. He loved watching her and watching that peaceful and angelic expression that she had on her face when she was with him. He wished it could always be like that.

When the storm passed about five or so hours later he woke her up. They kissed some more, and then they reached for their clothes and dressed themselves again. Nothing could erase the smiled they both had on their faces.

Night had fallen on the Vale, but the dark sky was cloudless and the visibility was good. The roads were safe again, and no rocks had fallen down the mountains and blocked the way. Sandor drove all the way to the city and took Sansa to the hotel. Once he parked in the parking lot he checked the inside of the car quickly, making sure that they were leaving no signs of their love-making there.

He accompanied Sansa to her suite. Just like in Highgarden, he had his own small room inside the suite that looked like a deluxe apartment. Once they were inside the suite, Sandor looked at Sansa with a devilish smile.

"I should let you go and sleep now," he said.

Sansa returned the same smile to him, and looked at him while tilting her head a bit to the side.

"But I'm not tired..." she murmured softly and playfully.

Sandor grinned. That was all he needed to hear to pick Sansa up in his arms, making her squeal, and carrying her to her room inside the suite.


	37. Sex, Lies, and Tests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the chapter name from the title of a movie called "Sex, Lies, and Video Tapes" and I changed it a little bit. I had no idea what to call the chapter and then my aunt suggested this name (my entire family has found out about my fanfics already) and I liked it so I was like why not? 
> 
> A little bit of the chapter might be uncomfortable. A little bit might be funny. I have to say that I enjoyed very much writing this chapter. I enjoy writing the whole story, but... oh, you'll see.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sansa was dreaming of a storm, with its powerful lighting and rumbling thunder. She was dreaming of stolen kisses in the dark, and of caresses in the dead of the night.

Her dream made her shiver, and she couldn't stop twisting and turning in her sleep, taking the bedsheets with her. She dreamt of a raspy voice that murmured her name in her ear...

 _"Sansa,"_ a voice that was foreign to her dream said then, pulling her a bit out of her world of fantasy that she was enjoying so much. "Sansa."

 _Go away,_ she wanted to say to that voice, which was so unwelcome compared to the raspy voice that whispered her name like it was the most beautiful word in the world. The sound of that raspy voice was the sound of sweet seduction, while the voice of the outsider was unwelcome and cold.

But that voice insisted, calling her name over and over again. It was becoming angry.

"Sansa. _Sansa!_ "

A hand took her shoulder and shook her, and Sansa woke up with a gasp. Her dream vanished from her mind, and she found herself on a bed, with the bedsheets tangled around her. It took her a second to realize that she was in her bedroom in the new house, the one that they had had to move in in King's Landing after leaving the Red Keep mansion so that Robb could go and live there as President. The peach-colored walls were still a bit foreign to her, even though most the furniture was the same as the one she had had before.

It also took her a moment to realize that her husband, Joffrey was standing in front of her. He was in the process of getting dressed, with only his trousers and his shirt on, but he still had to out on shoes and fix his shirt and put on a tie and a jacket. Sansa almost groaned when she saw him there, but the only thing that she did was rest her head on the pillow again and sigh.

"What do you want?" she asked, feeling tired.

"It's late. Get out of bed and get dressed," Joffrey said. He was as unfriendly and unpleasant in the way that he talked to his wife as always. Not that Sansa cared about that, she would still hate him with all her soul even if her addressed her calling her sweet names.

"Why?" she wanted to know. Normally she obeyed to what Joffrey said that she had to do, but that morning she really did not want to get out of bed.

_Why did he have to wake me up? I was having such a good dream..._

She had been dreaming about the Vale, and the incredible night that she spent there with Sandor. For a second Sansa dreaded that she had said Sandor's name in her sleep, but she realized that she hadn't. Had that been the case she would already have Joffrey on her, probably beating her. Yes, that was what he would do... But her husband appeared to be calm that morning, even though he did seem a bit annoyed.

Joffrey disappeared into the large bathroom of the bedroom, where he continued dressing himself.

"You have the doctor's appointment today, remember?" he answered to her question, and Sansa did groan when he heard that.

The doctor's appointment. Sansa had completely forgotten. She did not want to go, but Joffrey had insisted and he had forced her to go in the end. He made her have some tests done, and she had to go back that day to get the results and talk to the doctor about them. She really, really did not want to go. It wasn't that she didn't like doctors; she was okay with them. It was the reason why Joffrey was making her go that made her not want to go there at all.

"I don't think all that is necessary," she murmured then. She didn't expect Joffrey to hear her all the way from the bathroom, but he did. Joffrey a emerged from the bathroom and walked towards the bed while he put on his tie.

"I think it is," he said, and then he sat down on the bed next to Sansa.

She tried to move away from him, but he quickly grabbed her arm and held her so that she would stay there. Sansa hissed, because Joffrey was hurting her. She tried to pull from her arm to break free from him, but Joffrey wouldn't let her go.

"Stop," she said. "You are hurting me..."

Joffrey's hold on her arm only became tighter, which made the skin on his hand and Sansa's arm become white and dark red. He glared at her.

"It _is_ necessary," he repeated. "And you know why it is necessary? Because we have been married since April. Our honeymoon was in July, yes, but it is October and you are not pregnant."

Those last words were spat in a hiss full of hate, and then Joffrey pulled from Sansa's arm and forced her to move closer to him. She whimpered, but she couldn't resist it and she moved closer to Joffrey, until there was almost no space between her and him. She felt like a small insect being observed by Joffrey, who was like a cruel boy who wanted to take off her wings just to see the insect suffer and struggle to survive. Sansa took a deep breath, trying to remain calm as she endured the way in which Joffrey's cruel green eyes glared at her.

"Margaery has already given me a son, but what I need is a legitimate child, a true heir," Joffrey informed her. When he saw that Sansa wasn't looking at him, he held her chin with his other hand and forced her to look at him. "If I find out that you are on birth control..."

"I'm not," Sansa quickly said. It was true, she was not. "I swear."

"Then why are you not getting pregnant?!"

"I don't know!" Sansa sobbed. Joffrey was really hurting her in that moment, and the wild and angry look in his eyes was scaring her. She hadn't seen him so angry in months. That topic really upset Joffrey, who had been expecting the news that he was going to be father (again,) ever since they returned from the honeymoon, but he never got those news from Sansa, and he was getting irritated. Joffrey didn't care about having kids, not really, but he did want to offer the people the perfect image of a perfect family. The pressure that he was putting on Sansa to give him a child was too much, and every time that Sansa told him that she was not pregnant earned her an hour of angry shouts and insults. "Please... I don't know..."

She tried to break free of Joffrey, but he didn't let go. She pulled harder then, and the struggle ended up with Joffrey on the bed on top of Sansa. He tried to hold her down while she continued twisting and struggling to make him get off her. Joffrey hissed between gritted teeth while he made an effort to hold Sansa still, and in the end he succeeded.

"I don't care that you don't know!" he almost shouted at her. "That is why you are going to go to the fucking doctor, and you are getting back the test results..."

"What if I can't have children?" she asked then. It wasn't the first time that she wondered that, though it was the first time that she asked it out loud. She had only used protection a few times, and she had never gotten pregnant. What if she was barren? The thought scared her, and she was afraid to go to the doctor and have him tell her that that was in fact the case. She did not want to hear those words being told to her...

Joffrey grimaced.

"Well, in that case, you better hope that it has a solution!"

Joffrey let go of her then, and he walked to the bathroom. He finished getting dressed and the he stormed out of the bedroom, not before ordering Sansa again to get out of the bed and get ready to go. After he slammed the door shut behind him Sansa stayed in the bed for about a minute, thinking of what had just happened. She felt tears stinging in her eyes, but she did not cry. She was sick and tired of crying every day because of her miserable life in that city. She hated having had to come back. Why could she have stayed in the Vale? She had been so happy in the Vale... She had been happy even in Casterly Rock, where she hadn't had to deal with her husband for a period of time.

She got up from the bed, still thinking about what she had said. She really was scared. What if she couldn't have children? She had wanted to be a mother since she was going, and while the prospect of not having to bear Joffrey's child made her jump with happiness, the thought of never holding a baby of her own in her arms made her immensely sad.

She went inside the bathroom and showered quickly. After getting a warm shower she went back to the room to choose what clothes she was going to wear for the day. It was Spring already, though it was a bit cold yet. She decided to wear white pants and a black fashionable top that she could combine with a jacket if she needed it. She was going to go back to the bathroom to get dressed there, when suddenly she walked by her purse and something caught her eye. She felt a hole in her stomach. Then she reached out with her hand and took the box out of her purse.

She had completely forgotten that she had that there. She had bought more than a week after returning from the Vale, but she hadn't taken it yet... Now her eyes were fixed on the pregnancy test like it was some sort of threat that had to be avoided, but at the same time it was something that she could not escape from.

Sansa sighed, and took the box with her to the bathroom. She saw no sense in not taking the test. The last time that she had had sex had been with Sandor in the Vale, and she hadn't taken a pregnancy test after, nor had she taken any anti-conceptive morning after pill. She wanted to know, before going to the doctor, if she was pregnant or not. She might be, the possibility was there after all...

She took the test. Then she set the timer on her phone and got dressed while she waited for the results. She put on her clothes quickly, and then she brushed her hair and quickly put on a tiny little bit of make-up. Just some blush and mascara and lip gloss, nothing more. The results were still not ready, so she sat down to wait...

Sansa felt her heart beating fast within her chest, like a time bomb about to explode. She was afraid of the results. If she wasn't pregnant, then she was afraid of what the doctor might tell her when she got to his office to get the results of the tests that they did to her. But if she was...

Oh God. What if she was pregnant of Sandor? What would she do then? Well, the situation wasn't as complicated as it would be had that happened when she wasn't yet married. At least now she could maybe pass the baby as being Joffrey's...

Sansa frowned. No, she couldn't do that, it would be so cruel! She couldn't condemn a poor innocent child, her own flesh and blood, to a life next to that monster! She didn't even want to think about how Joffrey would treat that child... She had seen him around Garrett, Margaery's baby, though. Joffrey seemed to be happy with his son, and he had been careful around the child when he had met him; Sansa had been there one day that Margaery visited with the baby, and she had seen how Joffrey acted... She had even held the baby in her arms herself! Garrett was such a lovely boy... But what would happen if she had her own child, and Joffrey discovered that he was not the father? Sansa did not even want to think about it.

I would have to leave, she realized then. _If I am pregnant I would have to escape. I can't have my child living with Joffrey, that would be too cruel..._

She heard someone knocking on the bedroom's closed door then, which startled her. She gasped, but then she heard Sandor's voice coming from the other side of the door.

"Little bird?" he asked. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," she said, and then she heard the door opening and steps coming closer. Sandor walked towards the bathroom door but Sansa came out of it to meet him. She smiled weakly at him, and Sandor noticed.

"Are you alright, Sansa?" he asked, frowning.

She nodded. "Yes, yes... I was just... Nothing."

"Joffrey is getting impatient," Sandor informed her. "He is downstairs, asking why the hell you are taking so long. He says that you have to go to the hospital... Why in seven hells do you have to go to the hospital?" he asked, visibly worried. "Are you sick? Did he hurt you?"

"No," Sansa said, quickly shaking her head. "It's just that... Well, I..."

The timer went off then. The sudden and unexpected noise startled Sandor, and he looked inside the bathroom. Sansa gasped for the second time in a short while and rushed inside the bathroom. She grabbed the oregnancy test, but she did not dare to look at the results just then.

"Sansa, what the fuck is that?"

Sansa gulped. "It's a... It's a... a test."

Sandor frowned even more than before. She could see in the huge mirror of the bathroom that he was about to ask something more, but then his eyes settled on the trash can that was in the bathroom. Sansa had thrown the box of the test in there. Sandor entered the bathroom, taking slow and short steps towards the trash can, and then he took it. He read what it said in the empty box, and then he looked at Sansa with eyes wide with shock. Then he saw what she was holding in her hands.

"What..." Sandor began asking, though the words were caught in his throat. He coughed, and made an effort to continue speaking. "What does it say...?"

"What do you want it to say?" Sansa asked before she took a look at the results. She knew that Sandor was a very straightforward person and hated that kind of questions, but she wanted to know what to expect when she told Sandor the results of the pregnancy test.

Sandor looked extremely troubled then. He ran his hand over his face, and sighed. He suddenly looked exhausted.

"Mine or Joffrey's?" he asked before he replied to her question. His voice was weak, barely a whisper.

"Yours," Sansa said.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth?" Sandor asked her, and Sansa nodded.

"Yes, please."

"I don't want you to be pregnant," Sandor said then. "It's not that... That I wouldn't want a child with you, though I had never... I had never thought about that..." He was almost speechless. He imagined a child, his and Sansa's. Some pretty little boy with black or auburn hair. Or maybe a girl. That image... _He wanted it._ He really wanted it. Having a child with Sansa would be having a little piece of Heaven gifted to him. But he knew that he couldn't have it, and that was why he did not want it. "It is bad enough to have to see you living in this hellhole. I would not be able to see our child in this situation too, it would be too much. Even if... Even if the child wasn't mine it would be too much to see you both under the claws of that beast."

"Sandor..."

"What does it say, Sansa?" Sandor asked very abruptly, looking at the test. "Please, just tell me."

Sansa hesitated, but then she looked down at the test in her hands. For a couple of seconds there was a tense silence, and it felt like the air around them had suddenly become ice-cold. Sansa could feel Sandor's heavy gaze on her as she saw the results and interpreted what they said.

She sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment. She couldn't help but feel both. Sandor arched an eyebrow, not knowing what that sigh really meant.

"I'm not pregnant," Sansa announced, and she could feel the tension leaving Sandor's body and the atmosphere around them returning to normality.

" _Gods,_ Sansa," Sandor rasped. " _ **Fuck.**_ You scared the seven hells out of me."

"Sorry," she apologized, but Sandor shook his head.

"No. No, don't apologize, it's my fault..." he said, taking a step towards her. "It's just that... I'm sorry, I should have reacted better before."

"I understand," Sansa said. It was true, she did understand him. She understood that the thought that he might become a father while she was with Joffrey had stressed him and freaked him out. She had felt the same way too, sort of. "We should be more careful."

"Yes," Sandor agreed.

There was silence again, and then Sandor took a step towards Sansa and hugged her. She hugged him as well and pressed her head against his powerful chest, feeling suddenly like a small child that needed protection. She felt safe and calm in Sandor's arms. Sandor touched her hair and kissed the too of her head.

"We should go," he murmured with his lips still pressed against her soft hair. "Joffrey is waiting for you."

It was true, her husband was waiting for her and he was in a foul mood that morning. Sansa did not want to try his patience and make him go back to their room. If Joffrey found her with Sandor like that in there it would be disastrous. Reluctantly she let go of Sandor, and they left the room and made their way to the main entrance of the new mansion. It was time to go to that damned doctor's appointment to see if it was true that she could not have children. For what she was seeing, it seemed that her fears and Joffrey's predictions would be, in fact, horribly true.

* * *

Sandor accompanied Sansa and Joffrey to the doctor, along with Joffrey's bodyguards Meryn and Boros. Those two were left outside of the hospital, one waiting in the car and the other waiting in the hospital's doors. Sandor, however, was left waiting outside of the doctor's office.

Sansa and Joffrey waited for Doctor Qyburn while he talked to some nurses in another room. Sansa was feeling extremely nervous, and she couldn't stop playing with her clothes. Her hands were trebling and her palms were sweaty.

"Will you stop that?" Joffrey hissed, annoyed. Sansa tried to leave her hands still on her lap, but it was difficult. "If it turns out that you can't have children, I want you to take all the treatments possible. Understood?"

She didn't want to do that, not if it was to have Joffrey's child, but she nodded. She stared at her lap the whole time while they waited for the doctor. When Doctor Qyburn appeared she managed to put on a small smile that looked genuine and sincere, just like she always did in public.

"Mrs. Baratheon," the man greeted her with a kind smile while he shook her hand. Many people still called her by her maiden name, and some didn't. Sansa hated it, but obviously she couldn't protest. Then the doctor shook Joffrey's hand. "Mr Baratheon."

"Doctor Qyburn."

"Please sit down."

All three of them took a seat, Doctor Qyburn behind his desk and Sansa and Joffrey in front of him. Sansa eyes the man. She knew that he was one of the best doctors in all of Westeros; many other doctors disliked him, apparently because they didn't like his methods, but everyone was sure that their dislike was really caused by jealousy. Doctor Qyburn was an expert in every area of medicine, and he was highly efficient when treating his patients. He had been recommended to them by Cersei, Joffrey's mother, who would only tolerate that doctor near her.

"You are here because of the tests that you had done, isn't that right, Mrs Baratheon?"

Sansa nodded, too nervous to speak. Doctor Qyburn noticed her nervousness and smiled kindly.

"We are afraid that she might have problems to conceive," Joffrey said then, and neither Sansa not Doctor Qyburn missed the impatient ring of his voice. He wanted to now what the diagnostic for Sansa was immediately. "And if that is so, then we would like to know if there are any treatments, any procedures..."

"Of course," Doctor Qyburn said. Then he picked up a folder that he had on his desk and opened it.

Sansa almost gasped when she saw her name on the folder, and she held her breath. Those were the results... She felt like she was walking to the guillotine.

She waited while Doctor Qyburn read the results and prepared to hear the bad news... But then the doctor smiled. Sansa frowned. Why was he smiling.

Doctor Qyburn closed the folder and looked at Sansa with a kind smile again.

"Mrs Baratheon, you are completely healthy," he said.

" _What?"_ both Sansa and Joffrey asked in unison.

"Yes, the results are all fine. You don't have any problem, you are healthy. You can conceive and have children with complete normality.

Before Sansa could even start enjoying the immense wave of relief that suddenly invaded her, Joffrey hissed at her side.

_"Then **why** is she **not** pregnant?"_

Doctor Qyburn looked at Joffrey then, and the kind smile disappeared from his smile. He stared at Joffrey for a couple of seconds, and then he picked up a second folder from his desk and read what was inside of it. The folder had Joffrey's name on it.

"Mr Baratheon, do you remember that we had some tests done on you are well?"

Joffrey scoffed, annoyed. "Yes, because you insisted. But that was a loss of time, they were completely unnecessary."

Sansa knew that they were unnecessary. Joffrey already had a son, Garrett, but he could not say it to Doctor Qyburn of course. However, Sansa sensed that something was wrong there...

"They weren't unnecessary," Doctor Qyburn said, shaking his head. He finished reading Joffrey's test results, and the he closed the folder and left it on the desk again. He looked at Joffrey straight to the eyes, and his expression was serious. Very serious. "Mr Baratheon, I'm afraid I have bad news for you."

* * *

Sandor was waiting outside the doctor's office. He had been standing on that hallway a long time already, and he wished he could hear what was going on inside the office. What was the doctor telling Sansa? Was the little bird alright?

He wondered what kind of bad news there were giving her, if they were giving her any, when suddenly the door opened. Sandor looked, and he saw Joffrey coming out of the office. He was fuming. Sandor had seldom seen Joffrey looking so furious, and it left him quite stunned. Joffrey didn't even look at him, he just walked down the hallway, away from the doctor's office and towards the exit.

Sandor, still puzzled, looked back at the door of the doctor's office and found Sansa coming out of it. He had expected her to look sad, especially after Joffrey's reaction... Because they had received bad news, that was for sure.

Sansa saw him and approached him. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"What did he tell you?" Sandor asked her then, in a soft voice. He did not want to upset her.

"That we can't have children," Sansa answered.

Sandor felt a mixture of emotions. He was relieved because he would have to see his nightmares come to life. He remembered the visions that he had had of Sansa, her belly big and round with Joffrey's child, and he felt so happy that they would never be true. But at the same time he felt sad, because his little bird would never be able to be a mother. He had seen before, back in the house, that that idea upset her. He was surprised, though, because of how calm Sansa was, and how easily she had told the news to him. Sandor had really expected to see her more upset.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

But again he was puzzled... He frowned when he saw Sansa start to smile. It wasn't a sad smile. It was a smile that spread all over her face!

"Sansa...?"

"It isn't me," she said then.

"What?"

 _"I_ don't have the problem," she told him, and she looked at him in the eyes. There was something in her eyes. Victory, perhaps.

It took Sandor a few seconds to process the information. Sansa wasn't sterile. _Joffrey_ was.

And then he realized what that truly meant.

" _Oh shit!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.


	38. Danger Line.

Tyrion Lannister laughed so much that he spat the wine that he was drinking. His shrieks of laugher filled the dining hall and silenced all the people that were having dinner around him. He got all kinds of looks from the people around him; the most notable looks that he got were the murderous glares that Cersei and Joffrey gave him, but he didn't care. His father Tywin was annoyed, as always, but his brother Jaime chuckled in silence so that no one could notice that he also found it funny. Tommen and Myrcella were confused by the fact that their uncle found that situation funny, but they didn't say anything. Tyrion's wife, Shae, maintained a neutral expression.

Tyrian continued laughing for a minute or so, until Joffrey couldn't take it anymore.

"Well, that's enough!"

Joffrey's angry voice just made Tyrion laugh even more. He even slammed his hand against the table, not able to contain himself.

"It's- it's the best case of karma-" Tyrion said with tears in his eyes. His laughter made it difficult for him to speak, and he couldn't finish the sentence without being interrupted by more shrieks of laugher. He did manage to look at his nephew in the eyes though," -that I have seen in my life! _Hahahahaha!"_

" _Stop laughing, you little beast,_ " Cersei hissed, still glaring daggers at her younger brother. "It isn't funny!"

" _But it is_!" he exclaimed. Tyrion wiped the tears off his eyes with his fingers. He had stopped laughing, but he was still grinning like a devil. He looked at Joffrey. "For years you have been pitying my lovers, and now my wife, saying my poor and tiny cock must be useless... and it turns out... _that **yours** is the one that is defective!_"

Tyrion broke into a fit of laughter again. Upon hearing those words Jaime Lannister couldn't help it anymore and he also laughed, even though he did it in a more discreet way. Cersei glared at her twin as well, gaping with indignation. Joffrey's face had become the same shade of red as a tomato. He was holding the fork and the knife in his hands with such fury that his knuckles had turned wife. At his side, his wife made her best effort not to laugh as Tyrion Lannister was laughing, because although she wanted to laugh, it would look very wrong.

Sansa's birthday was going to be in three days, and because the Baratheon, Lannister and Stark families were going to reunite to celebrate the event, the Lannisters had travelled to King's Landing early and they were now having dinner together. Cersei knew that Joffrey and Sansa had gone to the doctor that day, so she had asked her daughter-in-law what the doctor had said. When Sansa had said that she didn't have any problem, Cersei had frowned. Joffrey had glared at Sansa, but before he could stop her she had already revealed to the entire family her husband's fertility problems. There had been a long and uncomfortable silence until it was suddenly interrupter by Tyrion's roaring laughter.

Sandor had been watching the whole scene unfold from a corner of the dining room. He had maintained his expression serious and he hadn't moved an inch from when he was standing, so it seemed as if he hadn't heard or seen anything of what was happening. But inside he was cracking up. He had laughed a lot already hours ago with Sansa before joining Joffrey and the other bodyguards in the car. He had laughed also a lot alone in his room, before the dinner, and now he was enjoying Tyrion's reaction and the satisfied glimmer in Sansa's eyes and Joffrey's furious expression more than he had enjoyed anything in a long time.

"So you can't have children?" Myrcella asked then, interrupting Tyrion's laughter. She was looking at Sansa and her brother Joffrey, and she looked sad.

Sansa shook her head. "No, we can't. Well, I can, Joff can't..."

"Which means that you can't either," Joffrey muttered between gritted teeth.

"Well, of course," Sansa said, nodding her head.

"Will you adopt?" Tommen wondered. Joffrey was the one that replied first that time.

"No," he said, but he gave no explanations as to why he had taken that decision. "Now can we _please_ talk about something else?"

Cersei was the one that changed the conversation to something else, and Tyrion finally stopped laughing, though from time to time he would grin. Sandor didn't pay attention to what the Baratheons and Lannisters were talking about, he had his eyes set on Sansa. He watched her as she ate her dinner in peace, politely joining the conversation from time to time. It didn't escape Sandor how Sansa's eyes were lit up with that same victory that he had seen in them after she came out of the doctor's office. It didn't escape him either that that same glimmer in her eyes was a little bit tainted by a faint shadow of worry that wasn't there before. He wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers...

* * *

After they all finished having dinner they got up from the table and left the dining room. The men of the family went to the lounge to have a glass of whiskey and smoke a cigar while they spoke of what they knew best: politics. Cersei joined them, while Sansa decided to pass. She might be the wife of the Vice President and the sister of the President, but politics weren't her biggest interest. Instead she accepted an invitation from Myrcella and Tommen to spend some time in the gardens of the new mansion. Shae went with them too; politics bored her more then they bored Sansa. In truth they didn't bore Sansa, they just... She didn't feel comfortable with them. She believed politics to be a game in which those who played dirty always won, and she hated how involved her family was in them. She wouldn't be in all that mess if it hadn't been for her family's strong involvement in them.

The four of them took a stroll around the gardens. The early spring night was still a bit cold, but they only had to put on a light jacket and then the temperature was lovely. The sky was dark blue and very clear. There weren't any stars there because of the lights of the city, but that didn't erase the fact that that night the sky was beautiful.

There was a fountain in the middle of the garden, and Sansa, Shae, Myrcella and Tommen sat next to it and talked while they enjoyed the sound of the water. Myrcella and Tommen spoke about anything that crossed their minds, while Sansa and Shae were much more silent, just enjoying listening to the two younger Baratheons. Sansa envied them. Myrcella and Tommen were so young and so innocent... They had no worries in their lives, no mistakes, no regrets... No nightmares. Sansa wished she could be like them again, when her head was full of songs and her world was beautiful and perfect. She wished they never had to go through the same things that she had had to go through. She wished they never had to experience the fear, the desperation, the heartbreak that she had had to experience. The only good thing that Sansa had was that she hadn't lost hope. That was a thing that she could not afford to lose.

"I hope I can visit Garrett someday," Myrcella said then, pulling Sansa away from her thoughts. The mention of Garrett Baratheon had alarmed her. "Our cousin is so cute and adorable! I enjoy seeing him so much, and since Margaery lives here in King's Landing..."

Sansa stood up from the bench where they were sitting. Everyone looked at her with questioning eyes, and she smiled nervously.

"I'm cold," she said. It wasn't really a lie, she was the only one not wearing a jacket, and the air was quite chilly. "I'll come back in a minute."

She disappeared inside the mansion and made her way towards her bedroom. She couldn't stop thinking about Garrett, Joffrey's son that had turned out not to be his son. She wondered what Joffrey would do about that. The baby was just an innocent baby, so Joffrey wouldn't do anything to him... or would he? Sansa believed her husband to be capable of anything. She pitied poor Margaery Tyrell, who had dared to try to fool Joffrey and the shot had backfired.

Sansa didn't know what reasons Margaery had for having had an affair with Joffrey, and she honestly didn't care, but she did wonder if it had all been worth it. Margaery might have had one of Westeros's most powerful men wrapped around her little finger, but now all that she had was Joffrey's wrath fixed upon her.

As she thought about that she reached her bedroom. She was about to enter when she froze at the doorframe.

Joffrey was already inside the bedroom, having left the others in the lounge just like Sansa had left Shae and Tommen and Myrcella in the garden for a minute. In other circumstances Sansa would have gone inside the bedroom without caring the least bit that her husband was already inside, but that situation was different. Sansa's eyes widened with horror when she saw what Joffrey was doing, and she thanked that he had his back turned towards the door and he couldn't see her. Apparently he hadn't heard her approaching either, for he didn't turn around to face her.

Sansa couldn't see Joffrey's face, but she could see his hand... And what he was holding in it.

Joffrey was holding a gun. Sansa had never seen it before, but she guessed that he had had it hidden in one of his drawers. Joffrey was resting his head on his arm, which was pressed against the wall. The arm which hand held the gun was hanging at his side. Joffrey looked like he was thinking very, very hard... And from the way in which his hand held the weapon, with so much strength that his skin was pure white, and the way in which his body trembled, Sansa knew that he was not only furious... He was the embodiment of pure anger, and anger full of hate.

 _Oh my God,_ Sansa thought. She managed to stay silent and not even gasp at the sight of Joffrey and the gun. She did not dare to move either. What if then Joffrey heard her, and in his anger he shot her?

Joffrey kicked the wall then, with so much force that his foot left an indentation on it. Sansa jumped, startled, and then she ran away from there. She tried not to make noise, and as she ran down the hallway she looked back to make sure that Joffrey wasn't following her. He wasn't, he hadn't noticed she had been there.

Sansa didn't stop and she ran towards Sandor's room. Her heart was beating so fast that she believed it was going to burst out of her chest, even though she felt that her heart had left her chest and was now in her throat.

She reached Sandor's bedroom. The door was closed, and she knew that he had gone there after the dinner so she knocked on the door quickly.

"Sandor, open!" she exclaimed in a low voice.

Sandor opened the door two seconds later. He was still wearing his bodyguard clothes, and when he saw Sansa there looking so frightened he frowned.

"Sansa, what-?"

She didn't let him finish asking the question, for she pushed him and shoved him back inside the bedroom and she went inside too, closing the door behind her. Once she did so she finally breathed.

"Oh my God..." she murmured, nearly breathless. She put her hand on her chest, feeling a sharp pain in it because of the way in which her heart was beating like crazy. She gulped, feeling her throat extremely dry then. Her eyes were wide and scared. She was scaring Sandor.

"Sansa, what the fuck is wrong?!"

"Joffrey... He-he is in the room... He is angry..." she tried to explain. "He has a gun..."

"A gun? What the fuck are you talking about? What is Joffrey doing with a gun?" Sandor asked, alarmed.

"He... I think he wants to kill Margaery..." Sansa said. Saying it out loud made it even more real and more horrifying, and that horror was reflected on her expression. "Oh my God, Sandor, we have to so something..."

"Do something? Are you nuts?"

"No, Sandor, I mean it," she said it. She was serious, and she locked her eyes on his to let him know that she meant what she said. "We are the only ones that know that Joffrey believed that Garrett was his son. Well, we are the only ones that know and care about what happens to her..."

"I don't care about what happens to her," Sandor rasped, and Sansa gasped.

"Sandor!"

"Sansa, she knew what she was doing. What happens to her is none of our business."

"Sandor, I have seen Joffrey killing people," Sansa muttered, feeling upset. Her voice was severe, and almost angry. She had spoken in that tone to Sandor very few times, and it was always only when something really bad had happened to her. "And you know what he does to people when he wants them dead. Joffrey never gives anyone a quick death... He will probably do all kinds of terrible things to Margaery before killing her!"

"And what are you going to do?" Sandor rasped, frowning. "Tell Joffrey not to chop her to pieces? Forget it."

"She has a son, I can't just stand here and do nothing and let her die!" Sansa cried, suddenly feeling desperate. The feeling of satisfaction that she had felt with the news of Joffrey's sterility had quickly vanished with the knowledge that Margaery Tyrell had signed her own death sentence. Sansa could not look away and just let it happen, she couldn't. She kept thinking about little Garrett, and she thought about when Joffrey killed her father, and she did not want that to happen to that poor innocent child. It would be horrible, and Sansa would never forgive herself if she didn't at least try to do something to stop it. "Sandor, imagine that that was me. Imagine of I had been pregnant when we got the news, and Joffrey was going to kill me, and someone could try to stop it. Wouldn't you want them to stop it?"

"I would be the one to stop it," Sandor rasped immediately.

"Then stop it from happening to Margaret. Please," Sansa begged with years in her eyes. "Please, Sandor, for me... Please... I don't want anyone else to die at Joffrey's hands..."

She continued looking at Sandor straight in the eyes, trying to win that invisible battle that was unfolding in between them that would determine the fate of Margaery Tyrell and her baby...

Of course, as always, Sandor couldn't resist Sansa. He sighed, defeated.

"You are too fucking good," he rasped. "One day it will get you killed."

"But not today," Sansa said, finally smiling, feeling happy and relieved that Sandor had ended up listening to her pleas. "Sandor, thank you..."

"What do you want me to do?" Sandor asked her, and Sansa started thinking and trying to come up with a plan.

"They won't be safe in Highgarden, Joffrey will find them," she realized. "He will find them no matter where they go in Westeros..."

"Then they will have to leave Westeros," Sandor realized, and he sighed again. He wondered how in seven hells he always managed to be in the middle of so much trouble no matter what he did or where he was. "Tonight is my free night, so after I leave and everyone thinks I'm out getting drunk I will go to the Tyrell house and I will tell Margaery that Joffrey wants her head."

Sansa smiled, feeling immensely happy that Sandor was willing to do that for her. She felt a huge weight leaving her chest, and she could finally breath and be calm again.

"Thank you, Sandor," she whispered. She stood on the tips of her toes and gave Sandor a quick kiss on his lips. "I mean it. Thank you..."

Then she left the room; she had been gone for far too long and Shae and the Baratheon siblings would be wondering where she was. Sandor got ready in his bedroom to go out. He changed his bodyguard suit for normal old jeans and a black t-shirt, and then he picked a jacket and hid his gun underneath it before leaving his room, ready to leave the mansion and go do the favor for Sansa. He knew that that was going to be a pretty long and stressful night...

* * *

Sandor had gone so many times to the Tyrell residence in King's Landing to drive Joffrey there that he had no trouble finding the way there that night. He was lucky and the roads were almost empty, so it didn't take him a lot of time to get to the house.

He cursed in his mind the entire trip. He wasn't mad at Sansa for making him do that, he wasn't that much of a jerk. He could perfectly understand why she had sent him there to warn Margaery; he knew that if anything happened to the woman Sansa would feel extremely guilty, and even though it wasn't her fault at all, as would feel that her hands were bloody. Sandor could not allow that to happen, he had to avoid his little bird more suffering. What upset him was that Sansa already had enough with her own problems, she did not need to add those of other people to her already big enough and never-ending list. But Sansa had a heart of gold, and as much as Sandor knew that that would end up hurting her to no end at some point in her life, he couldn't say no when she begged him to help her.

The Tyrells were rich, but their house in King's Landing was very modest. Sandor parked the car in front of it and rang the bell of the door. He saw light in the windows, so he knew that the family was awake, but he wouldn't have cared if they had been long asleep. He had promised Sansa that he would safe the Tyrell woman's ass and her baby, and that was what he would do. Besides, he wasn't stupid. He had known ever since they were in the hospital that Margaery Tyrell was doomed. What she had done was not something that Joffrey would ever forgive, and Joffrey always had his revenge on everybody.

He rang the bell several more times until he heard steps approaching the door, and someone opened it. Sandor found himself staring at the annoyed face of Loras Tyrell. He could hear Garrett crying all the way from his nursery.

"What in the name of God do you want at this hour?" Loras asked, visibly upset. The man had recognized Sandor as Joffrey's bodyguard, and he clearly didn't know anything about the real reason why Sandor was there. Of course, how could he even suspect about it?

"Is your sister here?" Sandor asked.

"Yes. What do you want? Or what does your boss want?"

"He isn't my boss anymore," Sandor rasped, and in that moment Margaery Tyrell appeared at the door after coming down the stairs. She was surprised at finding the bodyguard there.

"Sandor!" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. She also seemed a bit worried. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Margaery looked outside the house, behind Sandor. She was probably looking for Joffrey, but of course he wasn't there.

"You need to get the fuck out of here," Sandor rasped, and Margaery frowned and looked at him a little bit confused. Loras did the same, but Sandor was ignoring him.

"I don't understand..."

"Joffrey knows," Sandor said. Margaery must have understood him immediately, because she became extremely pale all of a sudden and her eyes became wide with horror and shock. "You have to leave before it's too late. He's coming after you, and believe me, it won't be pretty."

"Oh my God..." Margaery murmured, too shocked to react in any other way or even move an inch away from the door. Loras was still frowning, not understanding.

"What are you talking about?" he asked Sandor, not getting what was going on.

"Joffrey knows that Garrett isn't his son," Sandor told him. "He found out this morning, and believe me, he's angrier than a wild beast. He will try to kill your sister, I can promise you that."

Loras understood then, and he paled as much as his sister, perhaps even more. None of the Tyrells was really reacting in a productive way, so Sandor tried to make them move.

"You have to leave!" he exclaimed, making Margaery slightly jump, startled. "Now!"

"How-how did he find out...?" she mumbled.

"He's sterile," he answered, and both Tyrells became even more shocked. "Now, I need you to pack whatever stuff you need to take with you, then take your son, and go to the airport. Take a flight out of the country, don't stay in Westeros. Even if you go to the far North Joffrey with find you and rip you to pieces."

"But-"

"There are no buts!" Sandor barked, getting angry. "Do you want to die?!"

Margaret shook her head, and then she did as Sandor told her. She ran upstairs, and ten minutes later she appeared in the door again with only a big bag full of what she needed to take with her, and carrying her baby in her arms. Loras decided to go with her and he ran upstairs as well to pick up a few things and some documents and his passport. Once he was back they all went to Sandor's car.

Sandor was going to drive them to the airport so that they wouldn't have to leave their car there, where Joffrey could find it and know that they had escaped abroad. While they were on their way to the airport Loras made some calls, letting the rest of their family, some of which were in Highgarden and some that had been out of the house when Sandor arrived, to let them know of what was going on. After Loras was done calling his sibling and his parents and his grandmother, the entire car was in silence for a while. Garrett had fallen asleep in his mother's arms and not even he made a single noise. It was all so quiet... The danger that the Tyrells were facing and trying to escape from was palpable in the air, creating and uncomfortable and suffocating atmosphere in the interior of the car.

Sandor was the one that finally broke the silence, once he realized something that he hadn't thought about until that moment.

"You should call the father too, whoever that fucker is," he said, looking at Margaery through the rear view mirror for a moment. "And don't even try to tell me that in the end Renly was the father after all because I won't fucking believe it."

Margaery shook her head slowly.

"No... No, it isn't Renly."

"Well, I don't care who the fuck it is, but Joffrey will. And if he can't find you, he will find the poor idiot and kill him instead of you, so if you care about him call him and tell him to get the hell out of here as well."

Margaret hesitated for a second, and then she took her phone out of her purse and dialed a number. She called some guy named Raoul. Sandor had no idea who that man was, and he had no interest so he wasn't about to ask. He heard Margaery speaking to the man, and explaining the whole situation to him. After some time, they agreed that he was going to leave with them too. Apparently that Raoul dude was back in Highgarden, and he would be meeting Margaery in the destination that she had chosen to flee to: Toronto, Canada.

Once she hung up the phone after whispering a soft "I love you," Loras looked at his sister and asked:

"Who is he?"

Sandor was surprised that not even Margaery's brother knew who her mysterious lover was. Margaret shushed and shook her head.

"Just some guy I met," she told him. "He was sweet, and kind, and intelligent. And I like him very much..."

"Then why did you lie?" Loras asked. "Why did you continue seeing Joffrey? Why did you tell him Garrett was his child?"

"When I started seeing Joffrey I did it because it was convenient," Margaery explained. "He seemed like an easy enough man to handle, and he was to some extent... The man is easy to handle, but the monster is impossible to control. No matter how tame a lion might look, at some point he will snap and show off his fangs and claws. Joffrey is like that. Even if I had wanted to leave him I would not have been able to do so."

Sandor almost chuckled bitterly after hearing the woman saying those words. Maybe the Tyrell woman did not envy Sansa as much as he had believed that she did, for she seemed to understand Joffrey better than he had thought she did.

When they got to the airport, Sandor parked at the front gates but he did not get out of the car. He didn't want anyone seeing him and probably recognizing him later, he wanted to avoid any trouble that that situation might get him.

Loras was the first to get off the car, and her picked his and Margaery's bags so that his sister could carry her son Garret in her arms easily. Sandor turned around to look at the baby one last time. The kid was still deeply asleep, and he looked so small and vulnerable and innocent... Sandor understood then why Sansa had wanted him to help Margaery to get out of that mess. Condemning that child to such a cruel fate that would be waiting for him should he stay in Westeros would be worse than the worst of crimes.

Before getting off the car, Margaery looked at Sandor with a small smile on her lips.

"Thank you," she said then. "For everything. You don't know how much this means to me, you have saved us..."

"Don't thank me," Sandor told her. "Thank Sansa Stark. She literally begged me to get you out of the country before it was too late."

Margaery's eyes opened with surprise at that revelation, and then her smile became sweeter, but at the same time a glimmer of guilt and regret appeared in her eyes.

"Please tell her that I thank her. I owe her my life, and probably my son's too," she said. Then she reached out with one arm while with the other she held Garrett, and she touched Sandor's arms while a pleading look took over her features. "Please help her too if you can."

 _She is definitely not so stupid_ , Sandor thought, realizing that Margaery understood perfectly the situation in which Sansa was. He nodded.

"I will," he assured her, and Margaery smiled.

"Again, thank you. To both of you," she said, and then she got off the car and joined her brother.

Sandor waited until Margaery and Loras walked inside the airport along with Garrett, and once they were out of sight he drove away from the airport as fast as he could, wanting to avoid any chances that anyone might see and recognize him or the car.


	39. Twenty-six Candles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a happy and cute chapter for your enjoyment. Enjoy it, cause there's going to be a huge lacking of cute chapters for a while. 
> 
> Oh, and for those of you that have NOT watched the movies The Dark Knight and Spider-Man 3, please be careful. Spoilers ahead. Big ones.

Sansa smiled and squealed as the cake was placed on the table in front of her, and people all around her sang loud and merrily " _Happy Birthday._ " She wasn't a child anymore, but a wrong woman, but anyways she still felt happy and full of joy as the song was sang and she waited for it to finish to blow the candles. She set her eyes on the enormous chocolate cake, which was decorated with colorful icing and the words " _Happy Birthday Sansa."_

" _Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday to you,_

_Happy birthday, dear Sansa,_

_Happy birthday to you!_ "

The song came to an end, and Sansa quickly thought of a wish. _I want to be happy,_ she wished as she leaned over the table and closer to the cake. She looked at the flames one more time before blowing out the twenty-six candles that decorated the top of the cake. She managed to blow them all out at the same time, and once she was done all the people around her cheered and clapped.

Sansa squealed again and then she turned to her right side, where her mother was smiling to her. They both hugged, and then Sansa let go of her mother and hugged her brothers Robb and Bran and Rickon, who were all around her. Everybody was there; even some of her friends that she hadn't seen in a long time had gone to her birthday party.

The Lannisters and Baratheons were also there, but it was easy to ignore them when all the Starks were there. Joffrey was nowhere in sight at the moment, which made Sansa the happiest woman in the world. She had her family and her friends there with her, so so far her birthday was being great and she was genuinely enjoying the night very much.

After she blew the candles out, the cake was cut into many pieces and distributed among all the guests. The cake was delicious, baked by the best baker in the city, a man that had made himself famous under the name Hot Pie. When Sansa ate a piece of the cake she almost exclaimed in amazement. That was the best cake she had eaten in her entire life! She realized that everyone thought the same thing when she saw their delighted expressions, and she smiled even more. She was happy that everyone was enjoying the night alongside her.

 _At least we are all having a normal night for once,_ she thought, pleased.

She chuckled when she saw Gendry not far away from her licking his lips after stuffing his mouth with a whole piece of cake, and he went to take a second piece.

"I'm telling you, this man is a genius!" Gendry exclaimed, referring to the baker Hot Pie, who was his friend.

Little Ned had done the same thing that Gendry had, and he had stuffed his entire mouth with a huge chocolate cake piece. His cheeks were all plump and round as he chewed the cake, and his lips and all around his mouth was stained with chocolate. His mother was horrified when she saw that mess.

"Ned!" Talisa exclaimed, but the boy only smiled, ever so mischievous... "You are going to get sick!"

After she was done scolding him and turned away from the boy, Ned took a second piece of cake and ran away before his mother could notice. Sansa did see it, and she laughed loud and merrily.

When they were done with the cake, she went to the living room, where there was music and drinks, and she sat down in one of the couches with her family all around her while other guests and members from her political family enjoyed the night in other couches and chairs and talked among them. Sansa didn't really care about the guests, she just wanted to spend that night with her family. She took her mother's hands between hers and smiled.

"I'm so happy that you are here today," she said, and her mother returned the smile to her.

"Well, we wouldn't miss it for anything in the world!" Catelyn exclaimed.

Sansa knew that she could see her brother Robb and her sister-in-law Talisa and her nephew Ned much more often than before, due to the fact that they now lived in King's Landing, in her previous home in the Red Keep mansion, but she couldn't see the rest of her family that often. Her mother Catelyn and her brothers Bran and Rickon still lived in Winterfell, in the North, and her half-brother Jon was always away because of his position in the army. But they were all there with her that night, and that was the best gift that she could have ever received for her birthday.

"You are closer to thirty than to twenty now," Rickon reminded her. Sansa glared at her little brother (who was not so little anymore, since he had turned eighteen a few months ago,) but she smiled nonetheless. "You are getting old!"

" _Hey!_ " Robb, who was thirty-one, exclaimed, feigning offense. Rickon grinned. Robb pointed a menacing finger at him. "Watch it."

"Don't make Mr. President angry," Talisa joked, and then she kissed her husband's cheek in a loving way. She went to kiss his cheek a second time but Robb turned his head to the side suddenly, making his wife's lips meet his.

Bran, who was sitting on his wheelchair, grimaced.

"God, you are so gross sometimes," he commented with a bit of disgust, though everybody knew that most of it was a jest.

"Jon and Ygritte and grosser," Rickon said, and the entire Stark family found themselves staring at Jon with questioning and curious eyes, while the young man was confused by the sudden attention that he was getting from everybody.

"What?"

"Who's Ygritte?" Sansa asked, slightly elbowing him.

"No one," he lied, blushing furiously.

"She's a girl that he met in the North," Rickon told the whole family, ignoring the murderous glares that Jon was shooting him. "She's some kind of rebel or something, everybody knows her because she's against the Government and stuff like that."

"Huh, very funny, Jon!" Robb exclaimed, once again feigning indignation, though he was grinning widely and he looked very interested in that little secret that he had just discovered of his brother. "Why are you getting girlfriends that don't like me?"

"She likes you, she doesn't like them," Jon said, shooting a glance towards the Lannisters that were at the other side of the room.

"Oh, okay then, I approve of this new girlfriend of yours," Robb said.

"She isn't my girlfriend, she is... She is..." Jon said. He wasn't able to find an adequate word to describe his relationship with that mysterious woman, and once again he blushed to the point where his face was bright red, matching the hair color of the Starks around him.

"She _is_ his girlfriend," both Bran and Rickon declared at the same time, and Jon sighed, defeated.

Sansa laughed when she saw her family like that. It was only a normal conversation, and it was as if they were back in Winterfell, spending a normal evening together in peace. Sansa had missed her younger brothers making the rest of the family uncomfortable by revealing that they knew more than everyone else thought they did, and she had missed Jon and she had missed Robb and they way that they joked and laughed when they were together. She had missed the way in which Rickon was always so mischievous (when he was in a good mood. He was awful when he was in a bad mood,) and she had missed Bran's smart eyes observing everything around him, gathering information about everything and everyone.

"Boys, stop torturing Jon," Catelyn scolded her younger sons, even though she was also amused with how uncomfortable he was. Sansa found it curious how Catelyn's attitude with Jon had changed so much. She didn't know what had made her mother forget about the hatred that she had felt for her husband's son when he was younger, but she was glad that he was now accepted as part of the family like the rest of them. "When you have girlfriends Jon will embarrass you too."

"Yeah, well..." Rickon murmured, and it didn't escape Sansa the way in which her brother's gaze wandered off and found Myrcella Baratheon at the other side of the living room. Sansa was shocked when she discovered her youngest brother looking at her sister-in-law like that, but far from being scandalized she was incredibly amused. Myrcella was a very good girl, and Sansa wasn't going to say anything against it if Rickon fancied her.

The conversation changed from the boys's love lives to other things, which eventually led to talking about the plans that all of them had for the future. Robb had everything pretty much planned out for the next four years, due that he was going to be busy in his position as President of Westeros. Sansa didn't have many plans, other than upcoming tours and filming videos and movies and recording a new album. Jon had to go back to the army in the North, and Bran was going to finish university. Rickon, instead of starting university, wanted to travel every corner of the world that he hadn't travelled yet during a gap year, and that made Catelyn have a plan.

"We should have a family trip," she said, surprising all of them.

"A family trip?"

"Well yes! It has been very long since we made one, and so many things have happened in the last year... We need a break."

"I think that is a good idea!" Rickon said, nodding his head in approval.

"Mother, I can't," Robb protested. "My life is going to be hell for four years," he joked.

"Nonsense! Talisa and Ned will come in your place. And Sansa, you must come too! You have travelled all around the world already, but you are always too busy to see it..."

"I would love to, Mom, but I can't..."

"Why not?"

"Because..." _Because I don't want to make plans for things that I'm never going to be able to do._

Sansa tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, but when she saw her family's pleading eyes she sighed and shrugged, and a small and soft smile appeared on her face.

"Well, why not?" she said then, to the satisfaction of all of them.

After talking some more, her brothers wanted to go out to the garden to escape from all the chatter of everyone inside the mansion and from the heat inside the living room. That night the air outside was warm, and Sansa didn't need to put a jacket over her white party dress. She went to the part of the garden where the pool was with Jon and Rickon and Bran and Robb, while Catelyn and Talisa stayed inside the mansion talking.

Rickon said something to Bran which Sansa didn't get to hear, but whatever it was prompted Bran to quickly move his wheelchair and start chasing Rickon around the pool. It was a funny sight to see, and Bran was very fast even on his wheelchair. He almost caught Rickon and pushed him to the pool, but Rickon jumped at the last moment and dodged his brother, and ran towards the others.

"Jon, catch him!" Bran exclaimed, rolling the wheels of the wheelchair as fast as he could to catch up with his you her brother.

Jon didn't react quickly enough and Rickon ran by his side, but when he ran by Sansa's side she reached out with her arms and caught him, nearly making him trip and almost making both of them fall to the grass on the ground. Rickon laughed.

"Let me go, let me go!"

"Never!" Sansa laughed. She might have been celebrating her twenty-sixth birthday, but at that moment she felt like she was a teenager again. As she laughed and wrestled with her youngest brother she forgot about all her problems, she forgot about all the bad people that troubled her, and all the bad things disappeared.

She knew that other guests were watching from inside the mansion through the windows, and some had come out to the garden and they were looking at the Stark siblings playing like kids. No one intervened or said anything. It was Sansa's birthday after all, and if that was her special day couldn't she spend it however she wanted? If what she wanted was to play with her brothers like teenagers, then she would damn well play with her brothers like teenagers!

Rickon was stronger than her, and laugher was making her weak. Rickon broke free from her embrace, but instead of running away to escape from Bran he picked Sansa up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Sansa squealed.

"No! Rickon! _Rickon!_ What are you doing?!" she exclaimed, laying helpless on her brother's shoulder, which felt like it was made of rock. When had her little brother grown so much and become so strong?! " _Rickon, put me down!_ "

For a moment Sansa really thought that her brother was going to throw her to the pool, but she couldn't stop laughing even though she didn't want to ruin her dress. Apparently Robb thought too that Rickon was going to throw his sister to the cold water of the pool.

"Rickon, stop!" Robb exclaimed, alarmed, though Sansa could notice a bit of amusement in his voice. She knew that the sight of her eighteen-year-old brother carrying her around like she weighted little more than a feather must have been ridiculous and funny.

" _Put me down!_ " she squealed again, and Rickon listened to her.

He put her down and Sansa quickly got away from the border of the pool, not wanting to slip and fall to the water. Rickon did stay next to the pool though, with Jon standing a couple of feet away from him. Sansa heard Bran exclaiming then:

"Jon, now!"

Before Rickon could react, Jon pushed him from behind, making him fall to the pool. Sansa gasped after seeing that scene happening in front of her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile while her brother Bran laughed at the top of his lungs as he watched Rickon's head emerging to the surface of the pool, looking completely stunned by that unexpected betrayal on part of Jon. Jon also laughed, and even Robb grinned. Rickon, whose now completely soaked hair covered his face, pretended to be annoyed. However, he couldn't really hide the wide smile that appeared on his face a second later.

"You treacherous bastard!" he said to Jon, and then he hit the water with his arms and splashed Jon. "You will pay for this!"

Rickon got out of the pool and started chasing Jon, who ran away because he didn't want to get soaked. While she watched that, Sansa started laughing just as much as Bran was laughing, and Robb laughed too.

 _It's like we are a bunch of kids all over again,_ Sansa thought, feeling immensely happy.

In the end Rickon did manage to catch Jon and push him to the water. When Jon fell to the pool Rickon jumped after him, and they started wrestling and laughing in the water. Robb was almost rolling on the grass with laugher at that point, and Sansa wondered if she could maybe sneak up behind her brother and make him join the others in the water...

Slowly, very slowly, she approached Robb from behind, trying not to make a sound, but her older brother heard her and turned around to face her. Sansa gasped upon having been discovered. Robb pointed a menacing finger at her.

"Don't you dare, Sansa!"

She grinned, and Robb interpreted that as a sign that Sansa was determined to push him. Robb started running away from his sister, and she kicked her heels off and ran after him while Bran cheered for her to catch Robb.

* * *

Sandor went out of the mansion when he noticed that Sansa and her brothers had left the living room. He heard her mother say that she had gone to the pool, and so Sandor slipped away from the party silently and made his way to the exit of the mansion that led to the garden and the living pool.

He hadn't seen Sansa for more than a few minutes in that whole day; she had been so busy finishing the last details for the party, and then she was welcoming the guests one by one and thanking them for being there on that special day. Now she was actually enjoying the party for real, celebrating with her brothers joyfully like if she was a child, and Sandor could be certain of that last fact as soon as he went to the garden and saw the mess that the Stark siblings had formed in there. Two of them were in the pool, clothes on and all, and they were wrestling and trying to submerge each other underwater without much success. The Stark boy that was paralytic was laughing his ass off on his wheelchair, and the little bird was busy laughing and chasing her brother, the President of Westeros, around the pool trying to catch him and push him to the water with their brothers. Sandor couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, completely surprised by what he was seeing. It wasn't an image that he was used to see, and for some reason seeing those grown ass people, one of whom was the leader of the nation, acting like stupid kids was completely ridiculous and second-hand embarrassing, but a part of Sandor loved it... and another part hated it.

The part of him that hated seeing that loving family fooling around like idiots was the part of him that was dark, the part of him that hated his brother and the life that he had had. Sandor had never had a family like that. When he was very little he had wanted to play with his older brother like he saw the other kids do with their siblings, but Gregor was never like that. Sandor hated his brother with all his might, and that hatred for his own flesh and blood made him despise the way in which the Stark siblings were playing around the pool like kids...

...But the part of him that loved that scene was the part of him that loved Sansa. That was the pure, good and selfless part of him, the part that hadn't been tainted by a lifetime of pain and hatred and fury. The part of him that wanted all the best for Sansa and cared for nothing else than her own well-being. And seeing her like that, laughing, smiling, playfully chasing her brother with not a care in the world... That was how he wanted to always see her. Happy.

Was that too much to ask?

He didn't notice the way in which the second youngest Stark boy looked at him from a distance. Bran Stark had stopped laughing and was now ignoring his siblings. He had fallen silent after he noticed that the huge bodyguard was there, but everyone else was too busy to notice the presence of the enormous man. Bran didn't think anything of the bodyguard at first, he knew that his brother and his sister were always surrounded by them, and he recognized the man as Sansa's bodyguard, so it was obvious that he was there watching her, making sure that everything was alright... Or was that really what the man was doing?

Bran frowned when he noticed the way in which Sandor's expression slowly softened and then a faint smile curled up his lips. The bodyguard's whole expression changed, and Bran wasn't stupid. He was anything but stupid. He recognized that kind of look as soon as he saw it, and he followed the direction of the man's gaze...

...Which led directly to Sansa. Bran wasn't really surprised. It wasn't the first time that he caught a man practically drooling after Sansa, but he had never seen anyone looking at her in that way, with... adoration. What he saw in the bodyguard's eyes wasn't lust, it was complete and unquestionable devotion.

Bran thought it must have been a product of his imagination and he was determined to ignore it when suddenly he saw that Sansa had finally noticed the presence of her bodyguard there. As soon as she set eyes on the man she stopped chasing Robb. She only stopped and looked at the bodyguard for a brief second before resuming her chase, but in that brief second her eyes lit up with a flame that seemed to consume her. If Bran hadn't already been surprised enough, he definitely was after seeing the way in which his sister reacted to her bodyguard.

Sansa ran after Robb again, and Sandor disappeared inside the mansion once more. Bran was looking at the door that led inside the mansion, thinking about what he had just witnessed. The thoughts went around his brain like gears on a machine, turning and turning until he figured something out...

There was something there, that much was obvious. Only a blind fool would not see it in the way in which Sansa and her bodyguard had looked at each other, even if it had been for a mere second.

The question that Bran was asking himself at that moment was simple enough. How had _that_ happened? And **_what_** exactly had happened?

He wanted to figure out and so he followed the bodyguard inside the mansion, leaving his siblings behind.

* * *

Sandor had just entered the mansion again after seeing Sansa in the pool with her brothers, and he was about to return to where the guests of the party were when suddenly something- or rather, someone- crashed against his leg. Puzzled, Sandor looked down, and was surprised to see little Ned Stark looking at him. The boy looked fascinated by the bodyguard and was looking at him in awe, gaping. That surprised Sandor even more; normally children where terrified after looking at him, and specially after looking at his face.

He almost chuckled when he saw that the boy had chocolate smudged all over his face. Thankfully none of it had stained Sandor's pants when the boy crashed against him.

"Seven hells, you are a mess," he murmured. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and kneeled down in front of the boy, who was tiny next to him.

The youngest member of the Stark family continued to look at him in awe while Sandor wiped his face clean of chocolate with the handkerchief. Sandor observed the boy a little bit. The only thing that would tell him that that boy was Sansa's nephew if he hadn't known already was the very dark auburn hair that he had, but nothing more. Eddard Stark was like his mother in most things, including his dark eyes.

"If you don't close your mouth you are going to get flies inside of it," Sandor rasped, and the kid immediately shut his mouth. However, he did open it again soon after, but that time he spoke.

"You are my aunt's bodyguard!" he exclaimed, and Sandor nodded.

"Aye, that I am."

What Ned said then surprised Sandor more than most things had surprised him in his life.

"That's so cool!" the little boy exclaimed excitedly. "When I'm older I wanna be just like you!"

Sandor raised his eyebrows, shocked by that statement.

"Like me?" he repeated, confused. Why would the son of the President want to be like him? "Do you want to be a bodyguard? Is that it?"

Ned shook his head. "No, I want to be like _you_!" he repeated, looking up at down at Sandor with amazement. "You are huge! You are so tall and so strong! You look like one of those guys that would kick the villains of superhero movies in the butt!"

Sandor laughed bitterly and shook his head.

"Kid, I'm not the hero," he rasped in a low voice. "Guys who look like me are always the villains."

"Well, in _the Dark Knight_ Harvey Dent does become the bad guy after being burned, but that's just him. You look like a nice guy!" Ned exclaimed, and then his smile spread all over his face, like if he was real proud of what he had just said. "And in _Spider-Man 3_ Harry becomes good again after he has his face burned. He helps Spider-Man defeat the bad guy! You see? You could be the good guy!"

Sandor had to really make a big effort not to throw his head back and laugh at the top of his lungs. He had forgotten how innocent children's minds were, and how imaginative and desperately full of hope they could be. He had been like that once, a very long time ago. He wanted to laugh and tell Ned that those were just fantasies, stupid tales invented to make everyone's heads become full of birds and dreams of chivalry and righteousness and the thought that good could overcome evil. That wasn't true. Good could not defeat evil. In fact, for years Sandor hadn't really been sure that good actually existed. He had started believing in good after he met Sansa, because there could be doubt that Sansa was the incarnation of good. But that stupid belief in that good could defeat evil? How could he believe that when he was forced to see day after day how Sansa lived, tormented by her nightmares that were incarnated in her husband, and there was no way out for her? How could he believe in such a thing?

 _If heroes existed and I was one of them, like the kid believes I would be, Sansa would already be out of here and far, far away. She would be happy forever, and she would be safe,_ he thought.

Ned's voice pulled him out from his thoughts.

"My uncle would be the villain in a superhero movie," he pouted, lowering his eyes to the floor.

Sandor frowned yet again. "Your uncle? You mean Joffrey?"

Ned nodded. "He is mean, and I don't like him. He looks strange... I think he has a secret, but I don't know what or why."

Sandor couldn't stop being surprised yet again by that boy, for that had been a clever and accurate observation.

 _It would be hilarious if this child were to unmask him after he has fooled the entire world,_ Sandor thought to himself, and then he nodded slowly.

"Have you told that to your parents?" he wanted to know.

Ned shook his head. "Have you seen them?" he asked then.

"Your mother is in the living room, and your father is out playing with your uncles and your aunt."

"I'll go with them, then!"

With his face now clean of chocolate, Ned ran away and towards the door that exited to the garden. Before he left, however, he turned back to look at Sandor again, who was back on his feet.

"I seriously like you way more than I like my uncle," he said, in a voice that made it seem like it was the biggest truth he had ever spoken and the best compliment that he could give at the moment. Sandor did take it as a compliment indeed.

Before he could turn around and continue he his way towards the loving room, another person came inside the mansion from the garden.

"Clegane!"

It was Bran Stark, Sansa's twenty-one-year-old brother. He was moving on his wheelchair towards Sandor, and the bodyguard wondered what the young man wanted. The two of them had never spoken before.

"Yes?" he asked.

"May I talk to you for a moment?" Bran Stark asked, and Sandor shrugged.

"What about?" he asked, not knowing why in seven hells Bran Stark would want to speak with him. He realized that the young man's expression was very solemn and serious, like the matter he wanted to discuss was of extreme importance.

"I think we are going to have to talk somewhere more private."

Sandor scoffed. "Look, I don't have time for bullshit. What is all this about?"

Bran sighed. "It's about Sansa."

As soon Bran said that name, Sandor was immediately interested in whatever the young Stark had to say to him.

"I'm listening."

* * *

The party was long, but it had to end sooner or later. The guests started leaving little by little, until only family members were left there. Robb, Talisa and Ned went back to the Red Keep mansion, but Catelyn, Bran and Rickon were going to stay the night there to be able to spend more time with Sansa before returning to the North.

When everybody was going to bed, Sansa went too. She had the bedroom to herself that night, for Joffrey had to attend some very important late event that he could not cancel. Sansa had no idea what that event was, and she did not care. She loved that she was finally able to be alone one night...

She had brought all her presents to her bedroom and put them over some chairs and furniture, where she could observe them and then find them all a place to keep them there. Most of the presents were jewelry and expensive and luxurious stuff, and they were all lovely. Her favorite present, though, was the one that her mother had given to her. It was a a pair of earrings. They were two teardrop shaped aquamarines, whose color matched her eyes, and they had tiny little diamonds surrounding them. The earrings were small and elegant and beautiful, and they meant a lot to Sansa. Not only had her mother gifted them to her, but they had been gifted before to Catelyn by her father many years ago. Those earrings were special, and to Sansa it felt like it was a gift from her father as well.

Sansa put the earrings in her jewelry box, and then she went to her closet to find a pajama to wear to bed. Before she reached the closet though, someone knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said, and the door opened revealing Bran and Rickon there. "Boys! What are you doing here, you should go to sleep!"

"We can't go to sleep!" Rickon protested. He had changed into dry clothes and only his hair was damp at the moment. "It's your birthday and we have to keep celebrating!"

"But-!" Sansa started to protest, but her brothers didn't allow her to do that.

"No buts!" Bran shut her up. "We have a surprise for you, and it's a big surprise. You have to come with us to get it."

Sansa was going to protest, but her brothers's expressions convinced her. Why not? It was her birthday, and Joffrey wasn't there. She could allow herself to be free for one night only.

"I promise you, you are going to like it," Bran promised her

"You are going to _love_ it," Rickon said, winking at her.

That was what finally and completely convinced Sansa. She chuckled.

"Ok, I'll go!"

"Perfect," Bran said, grinning. "Change into more comfortable clothes and meet us downstairs in five minutes."

They left and closed the door behind them, and Sansa quickly changed her white dress and heels for a top, jeans and sandals. She pulled her hair up in a ponytail, and then she left her room to meet her brothers.

She didn't meet anyone on her way down the stairs. Once she found her brothers, the three of them left the mansion. Rickon pushed Bran's wheelchair down the hill in which the mansion was while he led Sansa to where they wanted to take her. She couldn't stop wondering what surprise they had in stock for her, but she felt like she was dying to see it.

They walked for a good half an hour, maybe even more, and then they blindfolded Sansa. She didn't protest, and she just held to to Rickon's arm so that she wouldn't walk away or trip. She felt like they were walking for ten minutes or so. Suddenly they stopped. Sansa tried to listen hard and hear any sounds that might tell her where she was, but nothing. She tried to smell something, but nothing...

"Walk," Bran told her, and so she did.

She let go of Rickon's arm, but she wasn't afraid to fall. She trusted that her brothers hadn't put her in harm's way. She did extend her arms in front of her though, trying to find that big gift that her brothers had ready for her...

She had only taken a few steps when her hands touched something. It was big and hard, and Sansa knew it was a body. She immediately recognized whose body it was.

"Sandor," she whispered right before he took off her blindfold.

There he was, standing in front of her dressed with casual clothes, and smiling somewhat mischievously.

The first thing she felt was immense happiness, and she almost kissed him.

She didn't, though, because she remembered that her brothers were there. She turned to face them, feeling more confused than she had ever been in her entire life.

"What...?"

"We figured it would be less suspicious if you snuck out with us than with him," Rickon explained to her them, shrugging.

"But how...?"

"I didn't tell them," Sandor quickly clarified. "But your brothers are fucking smart."

"But I don't understand, how did you know?!"

"We are young, Sansa, not stupid," Bran told her, smirking. "I like to observe, and I deduced about you two tonight. Well, I deduced your feelings, the rest got confirmed later. And after that I found out that Rickon had also already figured it out long ago."

Sansa gaped, and she stared at her youngest brother in awe. Her eyes were wide with shock, and maybe a little bit of horror. She didn't understand how her brothers had managed to figure out about her and Sandor, but if they had, then that meant that their secret wasn't as well kept as they had thought it was. If Bran and Rickon had found out, then anyone else could find out! Joffrey could find out...

She gasped, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Oh my God, who else knows?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Don't worry, only us," Bran told her. "And it was only a matter of luck that I found out."

"I always find everything out," Rickon said, merely shrugging. It was true, Rickon always knew everything about everybody, and sometimes it even seemed that he knew things about people before even them knew it themselves. "I started suspecting it at the wedding..."

The wedding. That dreadful day when she had wanted to scream to the world that she hated the man that she was to marry, and that she loved the man that she could not be with... Of course that he little brother had been the only one to notice it, she should have known... Rickon was smart, but he had also been smart enough not to say anything until that moment. Bran and Rickon had always been very perceptive, and they knew and understood things that other people didn't. They were special in that sense, and that calmed Sansa down a little bit. The fact that her brothers had found out didn't mean that other people had done the same too.

"You can't tell anybody," she whispered, and both Stark boys shook their heads.

"No one will know, not from us," Bran promised her, and then Sansa was able to relax. "Sansa, I don't know what reasons you had to marry that idiot that you married, but I trust you and I hope that you know what you are doing."

She nodded her head and managed to smile a little bit.

"I know what I'm doing," she assured him. Suddenly Sandor hugged her from behind, pressing his body against her back while he surrounded her with his big and powerful arms, and Sansa felt like she was in Heaven. It was so odd, but at the same time it felt so good to be like that with him in front of other people...

...It felt so good not having to hide.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked then, wondering why her brothers would have wanted to sneak her out of the mansion and help her meet Sandor far away from there in the middle of the night.

"Well, it's your birthday," Bran said. "You should be spending it with the people that you want to be with. We already had you the entire night, now it's his turn."

Sansa felt tears stinging in her eyes, but they were tears of joy. She had always loved her little brothers, but at that moment she felt like she couldn't love them more. She walked away from Sandor and ran towards her brothers. She leaned in to hug Bran, and she squeezed him so much between her arms that she almost crushed him. She kissed the too of his head and then she stood back up and hugged Rickon, who hugged her just as tightly as she was hugging him.

"I love you," she said to both her brothers.

"We love you too, sis," Rickon told her, kissing her cheek, and then let her go. "Now go and have fun with him."

Bran and Rickon watched as Sansa moved away from them and walked towards Sandor again. She wrapped her arms around Sandor, smiling sweetly the whole time, and then she looked at her brothers.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked. "You can't go back to the house without me."

"Don't worry, Sansa, we will go somewhere meanwhile," Bran told her. "But be here before dawn."

"I will."

"Take care of her," Bran told Sandor, and he nodded his head.

"Always."

Sandor and Sansa watched as Rickon walked away, pushing Bran's wheelchair in front of him. Once they were far away enough so that the darkness of night swallowed them away from sight, Sansa turned to face Sandor. She couldn't stop smiling, for an overwhelming happiness burned inside of her like fire, burning away all of her worries.

Sandor smiled while he looked down at her.

"Well, I can't say that this hasn't been a very nice surprise," Sansa murmured, and then she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Sandor's lips.

"Happy birthday, little bird," he murmured against her mouth, and she smiled even more.

"Thank you. It is happy indeed," she said, nodding her head a little bit.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't get you anything," Sandor murmured. He had seen everyone giving Sansa presents back in the party, but he hadn't gotten her anything because it would look extremely suspicious, and they had already called enough attention to them as it was. He was glad that the Stark brothers had found out and supported that secret relationship, but he didn't want anyone else finding out. That would be bad.

"It's okay," Sansa said. She didn't need any presents. "Besides, I already got a wonderful present. Can I say something that will probably sound very, very cheesy?"

That made Sandor laugh. They were standing in the middle of nowhere, for the place that Bran and Rickon had taken them to was almost in the outskirts of the city and there was nothing else but trees to hear them, so Sandor could laugh as loudly as he wanted to.

"Sure, little bird," he said, encouraging her to say whatever it was that was in her mind.

"I have you. What else could I want?" Sansa said, with complete seriousness. It was true. That Bran and Rickon had taken her there, with Sandor, was the best gift that she had been given that night.

The smile disappeared from Sandor's face, but it was because he was completely stunned with the sincerity that he found in Sansa's expression while she said those words.

Unable to find the right words to say to reply to her, he did the next best thing that he could think of. He took Sansa's chin and gently raised her head, and then he kissed her. He kissed her passionately, and he kissed her for a long time. Sansa threw her arms around Sandor's neck and kissed him back, and they didn´t part until they were both breathless and needed some air.

In silence, Sandor took Sansa's hand in his own and started walking away, leading her to a place where they could spend the next few hours together and quietly celebrate that happy day.


	40. Don't Wanna Play Your Game Anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys. Uncomfortable chapter. Warning for violence, but not much. The name of the chapter comes from the song Made of Stone by Evanescence.

* * *

* * *

_ 11 months later. _

Almost a year passed in relative peace, with few changes. Things didn't get much better, but at least they didn't get any worse.

The country was being governed by President Robb Stark, who, for the surprise of everyone, fulfilled the promises that he had made to the people of Westeros during the electoral campaign. Everyone had known since long ago that Robb Stark was a capable politician and a man of his word, but it was seldom that a politician could be found that actually fulfilled all the promises that he made. But President Stark didn't want to let his people down; he was just like his father, a man of honor. And as such, he fought with all he had and did all he could to make sure that everybody got everything that he had promised. That upset many politicians, specially those that cherished power over everything else. Joffrey was among those politicians, but none of them said anything nor did they protest to the things that President Robb was doing during his mandate.

Meanwhile, everybody was going on with their lives. Sansa Stark continued being married to Joffrey Baratheon, but between his responsibilities as Vice President and her job as an actress and a singer they rarely saw each other, which was a relief. During those months Sansa worked in the filming of two movies and three video clips, and she recorded her new album, which had been released to the market a couple of months ago. She had concerts to go to, and she was currently preparing a world tour that she would leave to in the month of November.

Sandor still watched over her as her bodyguard, following her like a shadow. They kept hiding their relationship, but as time passed it became a little bit easier because they had gotten used to it. They didn't speak at all in front of people. They didn't even look at each other in public since Sansa's younger brothers had found out about them so easily, they thought that it would be too risky. So they basically ignored each other during the day, but when night came whenever Sansa was staying in a hotel because of her job, then she and Sandor would be together. They took all the chances they could have to be together, and they didn't really care what they did. Sometimes they just held hands, sometimes they talked, sometimes they kissed. Sometimes Sandor just slept in the same bed as Sansa, holding her in his arms and guarding her sleep. And other times, in thy could get enough privacy, Sandor made Sansa scream his name while making love to her.

However, the fact that things were a little better then they were before didn't mean that Sandor was happy about their situation. He wanted Sansa miles away from her husband and his family, and he knew that she wouldn't be completely safe until she was divorced and out of Joffrey's reach. Sandor had wanted to take Sansa to the Red Keep mansion hundreds of times, so that she could finally confess to her brother Robb the truth about Joffrey and her fake and horrible marriage. Sansa never let him take her to her brother, she didn't want to tell the truth. Well, she did want to tell the truth, but she was so scared... Sandor always told her that he would protect her, but still Sansa refused to run to her brother. She insisted that she would resist for as long as she could, and so far she was resisting. Sandor hated it, but he knew that he couldn't act against Sansa's decisions. And so eleven moths had passed, and there they were.

That morning of mid-September, Sansa woke up in Sandor's arms. She blinked several times when the light of morning that came through the windows hit her in the face. She felt tired, for she hadn't slept that much that night and she was exhausted from the previous day. It had been the last day of her short tour around Westeros, and after a long concert that lasted almost four hours she went to the hotel. Sandor had snuck into her room in the middle of the night and they had slept together, trying not to make any noise so as to not alert anyone of the fact that Sansa wasn't alone in her room. Sandor often snuck back into his room around an hour before dawn, but that night he had fallen profoundly asleep and he hadn't left Sansa's room. While Sansa became more and more awake with each passing minute she noticed that Sandor was still asleep, even though it was late.

She looked at his face. The burned side of his face was resting against the pillow, which left his good side in plain sight. Sansa stared at him lovingly, and she smiled when she heard him snoring a little bit. She rested her head on his rising and falling chest and entertained herself by listening to the beat of his heart and caressing the strong and powerful muscles of his chest with her hand. Sandor stirred a little bit under his touch.

"Sandor..." she whispered in a sing-song voice, and then she kissed his chest. "Sandor."

He must have heard her, because he stopped snoring and murmured her name in his sleep. Sansa smiled and kissed his chest again.

"Sandor, wake up."

He didn't open his eyes, but Sansa was patient. She continued softly calling his name and kissing his chest. She also kissed his jaw, and his neck, and his arms and the hard muscles on his stomach. She was again kissing his chest when she finally heard him speaking in a low and sleepy voice.

"If I continue sleeping, will you keep kissing me?" he asked, making her chuckle. "Because I can keep sleeping for all eternity, I don't mind."

Sansa grinned, and kissed him one last time while she caressed him with her hand.

"Wake up, silly," she murmured. As soon as she said those words Sandor suddenly rolled to his side, putting himself on top of Sansa on the bed. She squealed, and Sandor silenced her with a kiss.

"Who are you calling silly?" he asked with his lips still pressed against hers.

"You! ...Silly."

Instead of kissing her like he had done before, Sandor decided to attack Sansa with tickles. As soon as he started tickling her she squealed and laughed and twisted underneath him, making him grin mischievously.

"No, no, stop!" Sansa laughed with tears in her eyes. She couldn't stand tickles, she was extremely sensitive, and Sandor knew it. "Stop! Please!"

"Not so silly now, aye?" Sandor rasped, but he was still grinning.

"Yes! You are still silly!" Sansa giggled, and Sandor tickled her even more. Sansa almost kicked him. "No, stop! They are gonna hear us!"

Realizing that was Sansa was saying was true and that her loud laughs could give away Sandor's presence in her room, he decided to silence her by pressing his mouth once again against Sansa's lips. For a moment she was able to forget about the awful tickling and she focused only on Sandor's lips against her mouth, on the tip of his tongue touching her lips, on the weight of his body on top of hers...

But then she started laughing again, and she couldn't take it anymore. She started laughing again, but Sandor was too focused on the kiss and on his hands caressing Sansa's body, so he was caught off guard when Sansa suddenly pushed him off her. He ended up falling on his ass to the floor, but he took the bed sheets with him. Sansa didn't mind, for she immediately got off the bed and walked towards the bathroom to go to the shower. Right before going in she looked back and glanced at Sandor, who had climbed back on the bed. She smiled at him, and he felt an extreme desire to run after her to the shower. He knew he couldn't, because if he did neither of them would get out in time to catch a ride to the airport, and that would be bad.

Sandor sighed as he watched Sansa disappearing behind the door of the bathroom, and then he stood there on the bed with his eyes staring at the closed door. He wanted to kick the door down and take Sansa in his arms and make her his once more, but he had to resist that strong urge. Once again, their little time in paradise had come to an end, and they had to go back to King's Landing that same day.

"There we go again..." he muttered to himself as he got off the bed and gathered his clothes from the floor to dress himself before leaving Sansa's room.

* * *

 

Tywin and Kevan Lannister watched Joffrey in silence as he stood behind his desk. He was glaring at the newspaper that was on it. The front page featured a huge picture of Robb Stark meeting with the President of the United States during the latter's diplomatic visit to Westeros. Below the picture there was a long article praising Robb as a great politician and a great President. The article also talked about the meeting between both Presidents, which had ended with an strengthened diplomatic relationship between both countries.

Joffrey's hands turned into fists which trembled with fury. He hated Robb Stark, and he hated that he was doing such a good job. He hated that people loved Robb Stark, that he was succeeding in everything... Meanwhile, Joffrey had to stand aside and pretend to be happy with his brother-in-law's success, while he was forced to be in the background, always a secondary character in the history of Westeros.

He wanted Robb Stark out of the picture, and he wanted him out now.

"Shit," he muttered after finishing reading the article. He was sick of how satisfied everyone was with Robb, and of how much that newspaper was kissing his ass.

"You can't really be upset, the man is earning that praise," Kevan Lannister commented. "So far, he has done everything that he promised he would do."

"Lowering the cost of higher education, providing health care, encouraging the creation of jobs, enforcing trade treaties with the rest of the world..." Tywin Lannister murmured, carefully watching his grandson's reaction. Joffrey wasn't liking anything of what he was hearing, even though he already knew all that, naturally. "People love him. And I have bad news for you."

"What?" Joffrey snapped, finally rising his head and looking away from the newspaper, just to glare at his grandfather.

"I am afraid that if Robb Shark continues down this path of being the perfect President, he will win in the next elections. I know for a fact that he plans on running for office again in three years."

"A lot can happen in three years," Joffrey said, but his grandfather shook his head in disapproval.

"Not with Robb Stark. Will you risk losing to him in the next elections... Again?"

"I won't lose."

"You said the same thing last time. You will lose, and it won't be because of just one point."

Suddenly Joffrey slammed his fist against the table, knocking down a glass of whiskey that was on it. The glass fell to the floor, and the whiskey soaked and stained the carpet that covered it. Joffrey didn't care, he didn't even seem to have noticed it. He looked again like a wild beast. His green eyes were narrowed and had a savage and vicious look on them; his whole expression was aggressive. He breathed hard and clenched his jaw, trying to contain the anger that he felt. He had been trying to keep calm in the last months, but lately it was becoming harder and harder to do so.

"If I can't win against him, then I will have to find some way to get him out of my way!" he exclaimed, looking at his grandfather and at his great-uncle. "There must be some way... Some scandal, anything that will get him kicked out of office!"

Tywin Lannister scoffed. He seemed amused by Joffrey's words.

"A scandal? Ned Stark had more chances of provoking a scandal than his son, and Ned Stark was the most honorable man that ever walked on Earth. No scandal will ever get Robb Stark out of your way, and neither has he ever done anything illegal. He is the perfect President. And he won't leave on his own choice, no matter what happens or how bad things get. The Starks never give up on anything."

"You simply can't get rid of him," Kevan said.

Joffrey wasn't looking at them anymore; his eyes had returned to look at the picture on the newspaper. He repeated Tywin's and Kevan's words in his mind, and then he slowly shook his head.

"There is always a way..." he murmured in a low and sly voice, more to himself than to the two men sitting in front of him.

Tywin and Kevan looked at each other, wondering what on Earth was going on inside Joffrey's head. It was obvious from the young man's expression that he was thinking of something... He was planning something. And when Joffrey planned something it was never something good.

The two older Lannister men waited in silence to see if Joffrey shared with them what he was thinking, but he did no such thing. Instead he dismissed them, and Tywin and Kevan left after a brief and cold goodbye.

Joffrey remained standing behind his desk, with his hands on the wooden surface at each side of the newspaper. His glare full of hate and rage and envy was fixed on President Robb Stark's face in the picture. Joffrey had hated Vice President Eddard Stark with a passion, but he hated Robb Stark even more. Joffrey remembered all the things that he had done to Ned Stark when the man had dared to stand in his way, and he wished he could do the same to the younger Stark. Robb Stark was worse than his father. Not only had he stood between Joffrey and what he wanted, but he had also taken those things away from him and claimed them for himself. Joffrey had always wanted to be President. He had been so close, and then Robb Stark had appeared and he had dared to snatch the power away from him. All of Joffrey's ambitions had been out on hold because of Robb Stark...

But Joffrey wasn't going to give up. He never did... He would get the power that he so much desired, one way or another...

He heard footsteps coming closer from down the hallway outside his office, and he knew that Sansa had come back. He had known that she was going to return that evening from her tour, but he had forgotten all about it until that moment. He ignored her approaching footsteps because he couldn't take his eyes off Robb Stark's picture. Feeling an explosion of rage within himself, he suddenly grabbed a letter opener and yelled. As he did so, he stabbed the newspaper with the letter opener.

Right after he did so, the door to his office opened and Sansa walked into the place, looking pretty as always, with her long auburn hair falling down her back in beautiful and bright waves. Joffrey looked away from the newspaper and stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"Joffrey, I'm back-" Sansa had started saying, but the words died in her mouth as soon as she saw what her husband had been doing. Her eyes went wide with poorly hidden horror when she saw that Joffrey had stabbed her brother's head in a picture with a letter opener. She took a step back, feeling a wave of fear wash through her. She looked away from the picture in the newspaper and looked at Joffrey with watery eyes. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, dear," he sneered, still gripping the letter opener with so much force that his hand was trembling, and the blade of the letter opened cut a bit hole in the picture right in Robb Stark's forehead.

Sansa gulped. In just a second all the fear that had disappeared while she was on tour away from King's Landing came back to her, and she hadn't been in the mansion for more than half an hour and she was already shaking like a little defenseless girl in front of a terrible monster. She couldn't take her eyes off the picture of her brother that Joffrey had stabbed with the letter opener, and images of her father's death flashed in her mind. She took another step back, hitting the door behind her.

Joffrey let go of the blade then and he walked from behind the desk, approaching Sansa with slow and short steps.

"Sansa, come here," he told her, eyeing her like a hungry predator.

She shook her head. "No," she whispered, and then she turned around and walked out of there.

"Sansa, come back here!" she heard Joffrey saying behind her, but she didn't listen to him. She kept walking towards her room in the third floor of the mansion, blocking out Joffrey's voice and the way in which he demanded her to go back to him. She didn't want to go anywhere near him, and he couldn't make her do it. She just wanted to go to her room and be alone.

"Joffrey, I'm tired, it was a long flight," she protested when she saw that he had followed her back to their bedroom.

"I don't care," he hissed. "You have been away too long."

"I was working," Sansa murmured, feeling like she had lost her voice. "Joffrey, I'm tired," she repeated. "You can go back to stabbing pictures of my brother if you want, but please leave me alone..."

Joffrey grabbed her arm then and pulled from it to bring her closer to him. Sansa gasped as body became pressed to Joffrey's. She tried to move away from him, feeling disgusted by the closeness between them. Oh, how she hadn't missed her husband in that time that she had been away from that hell of a place. Joffrey sensed that Sansa was trying to put some distance between them again, so he put his other hand on her waist to keep her from doing that. He was glaring at her, and in that closeness Sansa thought that he looked like a snake, dangerous and venomous, waiting to jump and attack her.

"Ow, you are hurting me..." she whimpered, but he twisted her arm and made her whimper even more. "Ow! Joffrey!"

"I don't like it when you leave for such a long time," he hissed between gritted teeth. His face was so close to Sansa's that she could feel his hot breath on her, sending cold waves of disgust through her. "You make me miss you."

"You lie," she said. "You never miss me. Just as I never miss you!"

Joffrey ignored her words and tried to force a kiss on her, but Sansa moved her face away. She didn't want to kiss him. She always forced herself to kiss him to keep him happy with her, to try to avoid trouble, but she was too tired from the flight to put up with him. She was also too tired of having to put up with him. She had had enough.

"Leave me alone, Joffrey!"

She had had months of peace. She had had months of him leaving her almost alone... But like most good things, that truce had come to an end.

Joffrey, further enraged by her rejection, raised his hand and hit her.

* * *

Five minutes later Sansa was running through the hallways of the mansion, rushing for the stairs. She was breathing heavily and shaking without control; her legs felt like they were made of jelly, but she couldn't stop running. She wanted to scream and call for help, but who was going to call for help in there? She was surrounded by Lannisters, and they would all help Joffrey, not her.

She could hear Joffrey shouting her name in a mad rage, completely infuriated. After he had slapped her he had thrown her to the bed, where he had pinned her down with his own body on top of hers. Joffrey was too strong for her to fight, so there wasn't much that she could do. She had slapped him back and she had scratched his neck, which had only infuriated Joffrey even more. Then, as he was about to hit her again, Sansa had extended her arm to grab the lamp that was on the bedside table, and she had hit Joffrey's head with it with all her strength. The lamp had shattered and Joffrey had screamed. He had rolled off Sansa and fallen off the bed, and Sansa had taken the opportunity to get up and run.

Joffrey was now running after her, and Sansa did not dare to look behind her to see where he was, for she felt that if se saw him he would catch her quicker.

Her long and fast strides took her to the library in the first floor, and she rushed inside of it without checking first if there was anyone inside of it. She immediately closed the door to lock herself in the library. She went to lock the door, but found that the door did not have a lock.

" _Damn it!"_ she cursed, half hissing and half crying.

Joffrey arrived at the door then and tried to push it open. Sansa screamed and jumped in the air, scared, but she managed to hold it together and she threw all her weight against the door to try to keep it closed.

"Sansa!" Joffrey's voice came from the other side of the door. It didn't seem like his voice anymore, but rather the hysterical howl of a hungry and vicious wild animal. " _Sansa! Open the fucking door!_ "

She wasn't going to open the door. She couldn't do that. God knew what he would so to her in that moment if she allowed him into the library. She had barely escaped him in the bedroom, and he was only furious back there. Now he was completely crazy.

Her arms ached as she tried to push the door to keep it closed. Joffrey was stronger than her, that had already been proven many times, and he managed to open the door a bit. Sansa screamed when she was forced back by the impact of Joffrey's body against the door, but she stood her ground and she didn't fall to the floor. She tried with all her strength to shut the door again, but she couldn't. It was too much. She was going to have to give up.

Right before she did that, though, someone appeared at her side and pushed her out of the way, making her fall to the floor. She gasped as she hit the floor and rolled on her back to see who had done that, and she was shocked to find Sandor there. With one simple push Sandor shut the door close, forcing Joffrey back into the hallway.

Joffrey continued pushing and crashing against the door to make it open, but Sandor put all his weight against the door to keep it closed. Sansa could see that Sandor was actually making a big effort to keep the door closed, because the veins in his neck were swollen and his face was red. Sandor was much stronger than Joffrey, but in his rage Joffrey was very strong. The young man kept trying to break the door down, and they could hear him yelling with frustration when he didn't manage to do it.

"Sansa!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. She was sure that the entire mansion could hear him. " _Open the door! **SANSA!**_ "

Joffrey crashed against the door one more time in a particularly violent way, and the door opened a few inches for a few seconds before Sandor closed it again. He almost cursed, but he fought the urge because he couldn't let himself be heard. Instead he mouthed a few curses between his gritted teeth, and then he finally raised his gaze to look at Sansa for the first time since he had appeared to save her. She was still sitting on the floor, almost breathless, not knowing how to react. She was trembling with fear.

Sandor looked at her for a few seconds, and Sansa was not able to identify the emotions in his eyes. He was angry, very angry. But he wasn't angry at her, unlike Joffrey. Instead, Sandor was afraid because of the panic that he was seeing in Sansa's face.

Then he made a quick moment with his head, pointing towards a piece of furniture that was next to the door. Sansa understood him and stood up from the floor. She rushed to one side of the big and heavy piece of furniture and pushed it towards the door. Sandor moved out of the way and helped her by pulling the piece of furniture until they placed it right in front of the door, blocking it and making it unable for Joffrey to open it, though he was still trying.

" _ **SANSA!"**_

Sandor took her hand and led her to the window of the library, which led to the front yard of the mansion. He opened the window and went through it out to the front yard, and then he helped Sansa out the same way. He didn't even give her a moment to catch her breath after that intense and stressful moment she had just escape, and not did he stop to take a breath himself. He ran towards were the one of the family's black Mercedes was parked, and he took Sansa with him. Sandor had the keys, so he opened the car and made Sansa go inside of it. He closed the door after she went inside the car, and then he went to the driver's seat. He started the engine with the key, and before either of them put on the seat-belts Sandor rushed out of the parking lot of the mansion, nearly throwing Sansa against one of the doors of the car. He raced the car out of the gates of the estate in which the mansion was, and he drove far, far away from there.

By the time Sandor reduced the speed of the vehicle, Sansa was quietly sobbing in the backseat of the black Mercedes. She had her head resting against the tinted window, and her eyes were lost in some far away point of the road. She was trying to control the way in which her body trembled. After a few minutes in silence, Sandor cursed under his breath. Sansa could notice the anger in his voice.

" _Fuck,_ Sansa, are you okay?" Sandor asked them, shooting her a worried glance through the rear view mirror. Sansa nodded her head quietly. "Don't lie to me. Look at me."

Sansa was still resting her head against the window, and her loose and long and now messy hair covered her face. It had covered it before also, so Sandor hadn't seen her yet. Sansa didn't want to look at him, and she didn't want to look at herself in the mirror. Her face hurt.

"Sansa, look at me," Sandor demanded, and Sansa did as she was told. She moved her head away from the window and looked at Sandor through the rear view mirror, and her hair moved away from her face. Sandor saw her and cursed again, this time more angrily. " _Fuck! **I'm going to kill him!"**_

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, making the car honk. He received angry honks of protest from the cars around him, but he paid them no attention.

Sansa looked at her reflection in the small mirror. She was a mess. Joffrey had hit her only once, but that one slap had been enough to leave was huge dark red mark around her eye and over her cheek. It would probably turn purple soon. She sobbed again.

"What the fuck happened?" Sandor asked. He had no idea how that had happened. The only thing that he had seen was Sansa struggling to keep the door of the library closed to keep her psychopath of a husband to burst in a beat her to a bloody pulp, but he knew no more. He didn't really care what had caused the fight; no matter what the reason had been, he would still want to go back and murder Joffrey.

"I walked in and saw him... stabbing... a picture of my brother," Sansa mumbled with trembling lips. Her voice was low, broken, barely a whisper. "I went to the room... but... he followed me... I hit him... so he hit me."

She sobbed again, but Sandor made quiet and soothing noises, trying to all her down.

"It's okay. It's okay, little bird, don't cry... Don't cry... It will all be over soon, I promise."

Over? That was never going to be over. Sansa almost laughed, feeling bitterness in every cell of her body.

"It won't end," she said, shaking her head. She stopped sobbing and wiped the tears off her face with her hand, but more tears streamed down her damp face. "He'll be waiting for me when I come back..."

"I won't take you back," Sandor rasped then, earning a confused look from Sansa through the read view mirror.

"What...? But I have to go back... I can't run away!"

"I am sick and tired of this situation. I am sick and tired of seeing you suffer like this. I am sick and tired of having to just stand aside and let him abuse you!" Sandor raised his tone of voice until he was almost shouting, and Sansa almost cowered in the backseat because of the wrath in his voice. "I won't allow it anymore! I should have... I should have stopped it over a year ago. Fucking hells, I should have stopped it the first time that I saw him slap you!"

"Sandor..." Sansa murmured, but she didn't know what to say. What could she say to him that she hadn't said before? There was just no way out of her situation...

She was going to try and explain it to him for the thousandth time, but the words never got to leave her mouth, for she had looked out of the window of the car again and she had seen that they were in a very familiar road...

"Sandor, what are you doing?" she asked, confused and alarmed. She got no answer. "Sandor, where are you taking me?!"

"There's no fucking Tywin Lannister that can stop me this time," Sandoe rasped, saying every word slowly and clearly so that there was no doubt of what he was saying. "And if he tries it, I swear I will put a bullet on his brain. No fucking Lannister will stop me this time, no one will... And neither will you!"

" _But-!"_

" _No fucking 'buts!'_ " he barked, shouting Sansa up. "I am done watching you sacrificing yourself, it's going to get you killed someday! So don't try to stop me. I am taking you to your family. You will tell them the truth, and your brother will deal with Joffrey. _And that will be the end of it."_


	41. Ready, Set, the Gate is Down and Now We Are Going In.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name comes from the song "Off to the Races" by Lana del Rey.
> 
> Enjoy!

The car was approaching the street that led directly to the Red Keep mansion when Sandor suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car there. He turned around and looked at Sansa, and he handed her his phone.

"Dial your brother's number," he told her to do.

Sansa hesitated, but she didn't protest. She had stopped protesting long ago because she knew that it was useless. Sandor was going to take her to her family whether she wanted it or not, and nothing would change his mind. He had had enough of seeing Sansa in her current situation.

Sansa took his phone with trembling hands. She couldn't stop shaking because she was so afraid, and she hated it. She hated being so afraid. She wanted to stop feeling that fear that consumed her down to the deepest parts of her core. What she hated most about that fear was that it was the manifestation of Joffrey's control on her. He had manipulated her to the point where she was so scared of getting help that she felt like screaming.

She panicked for a moment when she couldn't remember her brother's phone, but then she thought really hard and slowly she remembered the numbers, and she dialed them. She handed the phone back to Sandor again, and he took the phone to his ear, waiting for Robb to pick up the call.

The phone rang several times, but eventually Robb picked up the call right before Sandor could start thinking that the President wasn't going to answer.

" _Hello?"_ Robb Stark's voice was heard at the other side of the line. Sandor hadn't spoken that many times with him and was a bit unfamiliar with his voice, but he could notice the slight Northern accent.

"President Stark?" Sandor asked, just to be sure.

" _Yes, who is this?"_ Robb asked with curiosity, not recognizing the number.

"This is Sandor Clegane. I'm your sister Sansa's bodyguard. Mr President, I need you to pay close attention, and I need you to do everything that I tell you to do."

" _I don't understand,_ " Robb said, clearly confused. Sandor didn't blame him, he would have been confused by a call like that too. " _Is something wrong? Did something happen?_ "

"I will explain later. Now, listen. Mr President, I'm taking your sister to the Red Keep mansion. I need you to be completely discreet about our visit. If Joffrey or any Lannisters call, or anyone else for that matter calls and asks if Sansa is there, say 'no'. She's not there, and she's not going to be there. You don't know where she is, is that clear?"

 _"Yes,"_ Robb nodded. Sandor could still hear the note of confusion in his voice, and also a little bit of alarm. Was the President imagining that something very bad had happened to his sister? He wouldn't exactly be wrong if that was the case.

"Good. Now, I also need you to get rid of all the staff in the mansion. No one can know that Sansa is there, and no one can hear what is going to be said once she's there."

" _Clegane, what is going on?_ "

"Just do it!" Sandor exclaimed between gritted teeth, not wanting to lose any time on the phone. He wanted to be able to get to the mansion as soon as possible and get out of the road where they could be found easily. "Call me back when everyone from the staff is gone. And anyone else that isn't from the family should be gone too."

Robb hesitated for a few seconds, but eventually he decided to do what Sandor was asking him to do. Robb could notice the urgent tone of Sandor's voice and he knew that whatever was happening -though he had no clue of what it was- was very important.

" _All right, I will take care of that,_ " the President of Westeros agreed after those brief seconds of hesitation.

Sandor hung up the phone and then he waited in silence to get called back. While he waited he turned his head around to look at Sansa. She had lied down on the backseat to rest a little bit, with her head resting on her arms, and she had her eyes closed; she was emotionally and physically exhausted. While Sandor watched her the only thing that he wanted to do was join her and take her in his arms and shield her from the world, protect her from everything and everyone that wanted to harm her... But wasn't that what he was doing at the moment? He was taking her with her family finally, and they were the ones with the real power. Sandor had nothing more than his strength, his body and his gun to protect her; her brother was the President, and he had power and control. Robb would save her.

 _You are going to be okay,_ Sandor wanted to tell her, but he didn't speak out loud to not disturb her rest.

He extended his arm and touched her hand with his own. Sansa was shaking, and she was so cold... Sandor took his jacket off and then he put it over Sansa as a blanket, trying to keep her a little warmer.

 _It's all right, little bird_ , he said in his mind while looking at her face. _You are going to be free soon._

When Sansa had laid down her hair had moved to the side, away from her face. Sandor could see where Joffrey had slapped her, and he saw red and felt his blood boiling in his veins when he saw the ugly purple color that the bruise was turning to. Joffrey had hit her with such strength that Sansa's skin was swollen, and he feared that she would have a black eye again. Sandor's hands turned to fists, and he tried really hard not to hit something. Instead he took a deep breath and relaxed. That would be the last time that Joffrey would put his hands on Sansa, Sandor would make sure of that.

He caressed her cheek with his fingers, and Sansa opened her eyes a little bit and looked at him with a tired expression. Neither one of them said anything, they just looked at each other in silence, waiting, hoping...

Twenty minutes passed before Robb Stark called again. The silence inside the car was broken by the ringing of the phone, and Sandor immediately picked it up after checking in the small screen that the caller was Robb Stark indeed.

"Hello?" he said when he answered the phone.

" _It's done,_ " Robb Stark's serious voice said from the other side of the line. " _Only my wife, my mother and I are left in the mansion._ "

"Perfect. Have the garage door open, I don't want to leave the car outside for everyone to see."

Sandor hung up the phone and started the car once again. He went into the road, and ten minutes later they arrived at the gates of the Red Keep mansion, which was already open to let the car in. Sandor drove the car all the way to the underground garage doors, where most cars were parked. That door was also open, but it closed immediately after the car entered the garage. Sandor found an empty place in the garage and left the car there. He turned the engine off and then he opened the door of the driver's seat and stepped off the car, slamming the door shut once he was out of the car. He opened the backseat's door and gently helped Sansa out of the car, making sure that she could stand on her feet. Sansa was feeling weak after the incident back at the mansion with Joffrey, so Sandor put an arm around her slim body to keep her from falling down to the floor. She still felt like her legs were made of jelly, though her body wasn't shaking as badly as before.

"Sansa!" she heard her brother's voice calling her, and she raised her gaze.

Robb was inside the garage, where he had been waiting for them. As soon as he saw them coming out of the black Mercedes he ran towards them. When Sansa saw him she took a small step forward, moving away from Sandor's and stumbling into her brother's embrace. Robb held her tightly, but at the same time gently, like she was some delicate porcelain doll about to break. Sandor stood behind watching the siblings hugging in silence. He couldn't see Sansa's face, but he did see Robb's; the man's expression reflected all the confusion that he was feeling because of that unexpected situation, but he also looked extremely worried. Robb frowned, and deep lines of concern appeared in his forehead. He had his eyes open and he couldn't keep his gaze still; he seemed to be trying to figure out what was going on.

"Robb..." Sansa murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Robb ran a hand through her hair in a soothing and brotherly way.

"It's okay, Sansa, it's okay," he told her, still not knowing what was going on, but knowing that his younger sister was obviously in distress. "It's okay..."

"I need to tell you something," she said. It was so difficult for her to pronounce those words... but she had to say them. She had made it, she was with her brother, and nothing could stop her from telling the truth anymore.

"Okay. Let's go upstairs and talk," Robb said, nodding his head slightly.

He let go of Sansa, but he didn't see the bruise in her face, partly because it was very dark in the garage and partly because Sansa's hair was again covering that half of her face. Robb took her hand and gently pulled from her so that she would follow him. Sandor was going to walk silently behind them, but suddenly Sansa turned around and reached out with her free hand. She offered it to Sandor, not afraid to display her emotions in public anymore. Sandor didn't hesitate and he took her hand in his. Sansa's hand was so cold that it felt like it was made of pure ice, so he tried to warm it with his touch. Robb didn't notice that his sister and her bodyguard were holding hands.

Robb took them both to the stairs that led to the first floor of the mansion, and then all three of them walked in silence to the parlor of the Red Keep mansion. As soon as they entered the room, Sansa and Sandor saw that Catelyn and Talisa were there waiting for Robb to come back with them from the garage. Catelyn ran to hug her daughter, and Sansa let go of Robb's and Sandor's hands to be able to hug her mother back.

"Sansa!" her mother exclaimed, visibly more worried than Robb. Mothers were always more worried, and Catelyn could perfectly sense that something was very wrong. Sansa never visited them, never called them out of the blue like that... And Sandor had clearly stated in his call that their visit was an urgent matter. "My baby, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm fine..." Sansa lied so as to not make her mother worry even more, even though what she was about to say was going to have the same effect as a bomb falling on the Stark family.

Talisa was standing behind Catelyn while the woman and her daughter hugged. Catelyn's hug had made Sansa's hair move out of her face, and an expression full of horror appeared in Talisa's face.

"Oh my God, Sansa, _your face!_ " Talisa exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands in horror.

Robb noticed the bruise on his sister's face then too, and his eyes became wide with the same horror that was in his wife's expression. Confused by Talisa's words, Catelyn moved away from her daughter to look at her face. Aware that her family was staring at the dark bruise on her face, Sansa lowered her gaze to the floor, feeling embarrassed. She lowered her head, trying to hide her face with her hair again, but before she could do that her mother took her chin carefully and made her raise her head. Sansa gulped and stared into her mother's eyes while Catelyn examined her face. Catelyn Stark's expression wasn't twisted by horror like that of Robb's and Talisa's; she remained serene and serious. Sandor contemplated the whole scene in silence, and he observed the way in which Catelyn Stark's eyes lit up with burning anger as they took in the image of her injured daughter.

"How did this happen?" Catelyn hissed. Sansa didn't say anything, suddenly afraid of speaking again. Sandor knew that Catelyn already knew the answer, but she wanted it to be confirmed out loud. "Sansa, who did this?!"

"Did Joffrey hit you?" Robb asked then, and all eyes turned to him, except Sandor's. The bodyguard kept looking only at Sansa, who had started shaking violently again. She sobbed, and her body language and her sobs were enough to answer her brother's question. Still, just like their mother, Robb needed a confirmation. "Sansa, did Joffrey hit you?"

President Robb Stark's face was turning red with anger, and Sansa hadn't even said 'yes' or 'no' yet. His hands became fists at his sides, and when his wife noticed how upset her husband was she moved her hands away from her mouth and put them on his tense shoulders, trying to calm him down. It did not work.

"Sansa," he said, almost begging. He needed an answer.

Sandor took a step forward and put his hand gently on Sansa's back. She gasped slightly and turned her head to look at him in the eyes. She had started crying and her blue eyes were bright like sapphires, though they were swollen and red. She sook in Sandor the strength to speak, and he have her a small and encouraging nod.

 _You can do it, little bird,_ his grey eyes silently said to her. _You can do it. Speak._

Slowly, she looked at her mother and her brother again, and then she nodded her head.

"Yes," she whispered almost inaudibly.

Robb turned around and walked away from his wife towards the other side of the mansion parlor, cursing under his breath and putting his hands on his head, suddenly feeling an explosion of anger inside of him upon that revelation. Sansa cried even louder then, and Catelyn rushed to embrace her with her motherly and welcoming and protective arms again.

"Sshh, it's okay... Sansa, it's okay..." she said, though she had tears in her eyes now. "You are with us now, we will take care of you. My baby, everything is alright..."

Sansa shook her head, which was resting on her mother's shoulder. The fabric of her mother's blouse became damp with her tears.

"No, it's not..." she sobbed, but no one listened to her.

"Come," Catelyn said, walking towards one of the couches. Sansa followed her without protesting and sat down on it next to her mother. "Talisa, please bring Sansa a glass of water. Robb, stop that and come here!"

Robb walked towards the couch where both women were and he sat down on the armchair in front of them. Sandor, meanwhile, stood on his feet away from them, not really sure if he was welcome there. He sensed that Catelyn and Robb Stark didn't want him there, but he didn't want to go and leave Sansa there. He had taken there with her family, just like he had promised her that he would do, but he wasn't about to leave her just jet.

 _I should have done this ages ago,_ he thought as he watched Sansa sobbing in her mother's arms like a small and scared child.

Talisa returned soon after with a glass of water in her hands, and she offered it to Sansa. Sansa thanked her and took the glass, then she drank a little bit. Her hand shook so much that she almost spilled the water on her, but her mother held her hand and helped her to keep if steady. When Sansa was done drinking Catelyn took the glass away from her and put it on the coffee table in front of them. Then she moved the hair away from Sansa's face; her tears had caused a few strands of it to become damp.

"Sansa, we need that you tell us what happened," Catelyn softly said, trying not to upset her daughter even more. "We will help you, but we need to know what happened. Did Joffrey and you have a fight?"

Without hesitating, Sansa nodded. Her brother asked the next question.

"Why?"

With her gaze lost on some point of the wall, Sansa merely shrugged.

"We just... started arguing... He didn't like what I said..." she lowered her gaze to the carpeted floor then. "He never does..."

"Has he hit you more times?" Catelyn said, shocked. She wasn't a fool, she knew what her daughter's words meant.

Sansa hesitated before nodding again. Catelyn looked at Robb horrified, not knowing what to say, while the President sighed and ran his hands over his face.

"How long has he been hitting you?"

"Since a little before Dad died," Sansa sobbed. She didn't hesitate that time when she answered.

Robb was shocked. His eyes were wide as plates, and he gaped.

"Since Dad died?! Sansa, Dad died three years ago. _Three years ago!_ "

"I know..."

"You have been married to that asshole for a year!" Robb exclaimed, not understanding anything. Sansa didn't blame him, she knew that it didn't make any sense. " _Why did you marry him?! Why didn't you say anything?!_ "

"Robb!" his mother scolded him, angry. "Don't make your sister feel even worse than she does already!"

" _But-!"_ Robb started saying, and Sandor couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Shut up and listen to what your sister has to say," he rasped, making everyone in the parlor turn their eyes to him and throw him shocked and surprised looks. It was as if everyone except Sansa had forgotten that he was still there. "Your sister has had to put up with fucking hell with that son of a bitch, and she doesn't need to have you yelling at her for that now!"

"You," President Stark muttered. He slowly stood up from his armchair while he glared at the bodyguard. "I remember you now... You used to be Joffrey's bodyguard."

"Aye."

"Did you know that he hit my sister?"

Sandor clenched his jaw, feeling furious to have to admit that yes, he did know. He was about to admit his guilt when Sansa interrupted him.

"He couldn't do it anything, no one could stop Joffrey," she protested.

"Of course he could do something! He should have done something!" Robb exclaimed, visibly very upset. He glared at Sandor again. "Why didn't you do something?!"

"He brought me here!" Sansa cried, again interrupting Sandor before he could say anything. "He's risking his life, Robb! I couldn't let him do that before!"

"Bullshit!" Robb exclaimed.

"Robb!" Catelyn Stark exclaimed horrified once again. "Don't talk to your sister like that!"

"Three years, mother! This had been happening for three years!" Robb shouted, as if he was trying to make his mother understand, but she understood perfectly fine. She was just better at handling her emotions than her son was, and her expression remained serene, though a few solitary tears streamed down her face.

"Let Sansa explain what happened," she said calmly, trying to make her son calm down too. Talisa went to Robb's side to help with that. "We should listen to her, not make things more difficult than they already are."

Suddenly Sansa stood up from the couch, startling her mother. Still shaking, Sansa walked to the door.

"I shouldn't have come here," she murmured. "I should have stayed there, I shouldn't have said anything..."

"Sansa, come back!" Catekyb exclaimed, losing her composure when she saw her daughter walking away. "Sansa, wait!"

"I shouldn't have!" Sansa cried.

Sandor took her by the wrist when she walked past him, stopping her. Sansa gasped and looked up at him with teary and desperate eyes.

"Let me go, Sandor!" she pleaded, pulling from her arm to get free from his grasp, but he didn't let go of her. "Sandor, let me go..."

"Sansa, you can't leave now," he told her, trying to make her see reason. He didn't want to speak roughly to her, he knew that she was scared. Hell, even he was scared! Shit would go down no matter if they left or stayed in the mansion talking to the Starks. It was too late now. "You are finally here, you don't have to hide anymore. You don't have to lie..."

"I have to!" she cried. "He will kill me, he will kill us all! I need to go back! Sandor, please!"

Tears streamed down Sansa's face like waterfalls. Sandor hated to see her like that in such a state of desperation, he hated to see her so panicked, but he knew that things would only be worse if they left now. The Starks already knew that something was wrong, but they didn't know everything. If they weren't careful they would attack Joffrey, and he would know that Sansa had gone to them, and then they would all be screwed.

"Sansa, please," he found himself begging her. "Please. Stay. Tell them the truth. Please."

Sansa stopped trying to break free from his grasp, she was too tired to keep fighting. While Robb, Catelyn and Talisa Stark watched not fully understanding what was going on, Sansa threw her arms around Sandor's body. It caught him a bit by surprise, but he immediately let go of her wrist and embraced her with his arms. Sansa sobbed against his chest, and he ran his hands through her hair. He kissed the top of her hair lovingly while he told her that it would all be okay. It would all be over soon.

"Please stay with me..." he heard her muffled voice against his chest. He nodded and kissed the too of her head again.

"I will," he promised her. "Now please come, little bird. Come."

He started walking and leading her back to the couch with small and slow steps, not wanting her to fall to the floor. As he made his way to the couch, he was aware of the three members of the Stark family looking at him. Robb Stark was looking at him in shock, not fully able to believe what his eyes were showing him. Catelyn and Talisa, on the other hand, were looking at him and Sansa with understanding. They were wise women, and they didn't need anyone to tell them what they had just witnessed meant, it was pretty obvious to them.

Sandor arrived with Sansa on the couch and carefully helped her to sit down. Sansa didn't let go of him, and so he sat down at her side. He felt uncomfortable under all the stares that he was receiving, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Sansa, and her well-being.

"Come on, little bird," he murmured, rubbing her back with his hand in a comforting and encouraging way. He wanted her to know that he was there for her no matter what. "Tell them..."

Everyone waited in silence while Sansa quietly sobbed, trying not to force her to speak before she was ready. She sobbed for about a minute or so with her head resting against Sandor's chest until she was finally able to open her mouth to speak.

"The night that Dad died..." she started saying. "I was there. I saw everything."

All three other members of the Stark family gasped upon hearing that. They stared at her wide-eyed. Before they asked questions, Sansa continued talking. Because of all the sobbing it was difficult for her to speak, and she felt a deep pain in her chest and in her tummy.

"They argued. Then... then he took a knife out... and stabbed Dad..."

"Who did?" Catelyn asked, though it was obvious. But they all needed to hear it.

Sansa closed her eyes before saying:

"Joffrey."

Sandor had expected to hear gasps of shock, horrified cries, laments, curses... Instead he heard the most intense silence that he had ever encountered in his life. It was broken only by Sansa's crying, but Robb, Carelyn and Talisa were silent and still as statues. Robb's and Catelyn's eyes were full of pain, though, a pain that could not be put into words. They were beginning to really understand for the first time in that day the real hell that Sansa had been living without them knowing. There was fury in their eyes too, a cold rage directed towards the finally revealed murderer of their beloved father and husband.

"He forced me to watch as he..." Sansa continued saying in high-pitched sobs, "as he did all those terrible things to Dad..."

She couldn't keep speaking, she was hysterical. Sandor hugged her tightly against his chest, trying to soothe her and give her a sensation of protection.

All color had faded from Catelyn Stark's face, and she now appeared to be as white as a ghost. The woman waited for her daughter to continue speaking, but then she realized that Sansa wasn't able to say anything else.

"I will bring you some tea..." she whispered, barely able to talk because of the shock of what she had just heard.

"Let me get that for you," Talisa offered and made for the door, but she was stopped by Sansa.

"No. Not tea... Wine. I need wine."

No one was surprised by that. Talisa left the parlor and appeared moments later with a glass and a bottle of red wine that was already open. She poured some wine in the glass and then gave it to Sansa. The young woman took the glass and drank all the wine in one single gulp. Talisa pouted her a second cup, but that time Sansa only took a sip from it before leaning back into Sandor's chest. He could feel her stop shaking a little bit; the wine had worked and was calming her down some.

Sansa found the strength to continue talking then.

"After that happened... Joffrey told me that he would kill me if I ever told anybody," she murmured. She wasn't sobbing anymore, though her eyes were still crying. "He only let me get out of the house when I had to go on tour or to concerts, or to accompany him somewhere. He had me followed by bodyguards everywhere. He spied on me... He also told me that if I didn't marry him... he would kill you. Right before the wedding I told him I didn't want to marry him, that he couldn't harm me in front of everyone in the church... But he told me that he would kill Bran, and Rickon and Jon... And Ned. He would kill Ned."

Talisa cried horrified at the mention of her young son. Robb didn't move, nor did he say anything, but the veins in his neck and in his temple were swollen and pulsed dangerously.

"I couldn't let that happen..." Sansa whispered, and she shook her head. "I couldn't..."

"Sansa..." her mother murmured, putting a hand on Sansa's shoulder. She was the one that was sobbing now, after learning what a horrible nightmare her daughter had been living for three years. Sandor wasn't very good with emotions, but he could tell that the woman was feeling broken inside. She hadn't been able to protect her daughter, and that was the worst thing that could happen to a mother.

"He killed Theon too," Sansa revealed then. "Joffrey wanted to be Vice President in case that he didn't win the elections, so he sent people to make it look like it was an accident..."

Robb Stark cursed again, and he buried his face in his hands, feeling like he wasn't able to keep listening any longer.

"Who else knows?" he asked then.

"Tywin Lannister knows," Sansa told him. "That day that I went to see you and he was there... I wanted to tell you then, but he knew and he stopped me. I know he knows about Dad, but I don't know if he knows about Theon. I think Cersei knows about Dad too, and she definitely knows what Joffrey has been doing to me... Arya knows too."

" _Arya?!"_ Catelyn, Robb and Talisa exclaimed all at once. Sansa nodded.

"That's why she disappeared," she told them. "She was there the night that Dad died, but I didn't know that until last year. She was hiding, and then she ran away. She... she was the one that tried to kill Joffrey, but she failed..."

Robb was the first to realize what she meant with that. "Arya was the one that killed Renly?"

Sansa nodded. Instead of questioning her about how in seven hells Arya had managed to do such an insane thing, Robb Stark's angered eyes turned to Sandor yet again.

"You saved him," he hissed. "You pushed Joffrey out of the way."

 _I'm not proud of that,_ Sandor rasped in his mind. He had laid awake many times just thinking about that moment. If he hadn't seen that fucking little red dot he wouldn't have saved Joffrey, and so many bad things wouldn't have happened... _But there's no going back now._

"I didn't know what Joffrey had done then. At that time he was just my boss, and I did what I had to do," he said, defending himself. "I found out about everything else later. Had I known before, I would have let his brains fly in every direction."

_But I didn't know..._

"How do you know that it was Arya?" Catelyn asked.

"We saw her," Sandor said. "In King's Landing. Then we saw her in Tarth, she went to find us..."

"But... where is she now?"

Sandor shrugged. He honestly didn't know. The last time he had known anything about Arya Stark had been when he spoke on the phone with Jaqen H'ghar before Sansa's wedding, and that had been a year and five months ago. He didn't say how much time had passed since they had news of the girl. Sandor knew that knowing that her daughter had been completely missing since almost a year and a half would only sink Catelyn Stark even more in desperation, and the woman already had enough with Sansa's problem for the time being.

"We need to do something," the woman said then. She had stopped sobbing, and she was forcing herself to appear strong and serene again, just like she had been doing her entire life for the sake of her family. The anger, though, did not disappear from her eyes, and neither did the pain. "Joffrey needs to be punished for everything that he has done, he has to be arrested."

"No!" Sansa shouted then, completely panicked. She moved away from Sandor and took her mother's hand in between hers, and she pleaded desperately: "We can't do that! I don't have any evidence, just my word! It's my word against his, and he has all the power and the influence of the Lannisters!"

"I'm the President of Westeros-" Robb started saying, but Sansa shook her head.

"It's not enough!" she kept shouting. "There is no evidence, we can't get rid of him just like that! And he will kill me! He will kill you, he will kill us all!"

She swallowed all of the wine that was left in the glass, and then she took the bottle and poured herself a third glass. She filled the glass to the top, almost spilling wine everywhere, and she drank without even putting the bottle down. Sandor took the bottle away from her and then held her by the shoulders carefully.

"Sansa," he said, trying to get her attention. He wasn't going to tell her that that was enough, because he knew that it wasn't. "Little bird."

Sansa emptied the glass and Sandor took it away from her, leaving it on the coffee table. Then Sansa fell into her mother's arms.

"He's going to kill us all..." Sandor could still hear her saying, though her voice was weak and muffled. The wine had calmed her down, but it had also made Sansa dizzy and sleepy, and she closed her eyes while still in her mother's arms. Catelyn kissed her daughter's forehead.

"My poor baby..." the woman murmured, and she rocked back and forth like she used to do when her children were small and they were scared and needed comfort.

Sansa spent a few moments murmuring lowly that Joffrey was going to kill them all, but eventually she became silent. She wasn't shaking anymore, and everyone suspected that she had fallen asleep because of the exhaustion that she felt and because of the wine. Catelyn didn't let go of her daughter, though, and she kept rocking back and forth while whispering comforting words. They were all in silence, looking at Sansa. Now that she was asleep her expression was peaceful and innocent, like an angel, but that beautiful image and that peace was ruined by the bruise on her face and the red marks that showed that she had been crying.

"We have to do something," Catelyn said again, once she was sure that Sansa had fallen asleep in her arms and that she couldn't hear her.

"But what she said is true," Sandor said, much to his sorrow. "There's no evidence, and Joffrey will never confess that he is guilty. You'll be putting Sansa and yourselves and your entire family in a lot of danger if you dare to accuse him without the certainty that you are going to win."

"He can't harm us," Talisa said. "Everyone would know that it was him..."

"Joffrey is a psycopath, and he is very good at making a murder look like an accident," Sandor rasped, "when he wants."

"Then what do you suggest?" Robb asked. "Do we do nothing? So you want us to let Sansa go back to that... _that son of a bitch_... and let her keep living like that? Do we not make Joffrey pay for what he did to my father and what he did to Theon And what he did to Sansa?!"

"Of course not!" Sandor exclaimed, horrified at the thought that Sansa go back to that monster while he got no punishment. "I didn't get her out of there today for nothing! I want her as far away from Joffrey as possible, but I know that we can't be stupid about it if we want Sansa to be safe."

"Then what?"

"First, get your whole family out of the country. Send them somewhere where they can't be harmed, somewhere where no one can find them. Once they are out, get Sansa away from here. Once she's out, then you can go against Joffrey, but not before. He's smart, but he's also irrational... If he knows that you are plotting something against him he will turn his anger on Sansa. I've seen it happening before, and today... Today I couldn't stand it anymore. If she doesn't get out it's just going to get worse."

"We are leaving King's Landing in three days," Robb said. "We can get her out then."

"In three days?" Catelyn asked. "And what do we do with her meanwhile? Hide her here?"

Sandor shook his head. "Don't do that. If she doesn't go back Joffrey will know."

"Go back?!" Robb repeated in disbelief. "Go back?! Back to that house, with him?!"

"It's just three days," Sandor said. He hated to be saying those words, but he knew they had no other option. "Three more days, and she will be away from here... I will only take her back to that place if she agrees, though. If she doesn't want to, then we will have to find another solution because I won't force her to go there."

"And what if she agrees? What if Joffrey hits her again?!"

"He won't, I'll make sure of that," Sandor assured the Starks that were there in front of him. He said it with such conviction that it was impossible to doubt that he meant what he said. Besides, the fierce look of his steel-grey eyes confirmed that he was willing to do whatever he had to do to make sure that Sansa was able to escape safely. "If Joffrey so much as puts one finger on Sansa in these next three days, I will kill him. I will shoot him, I will stab him, I will strangle him with my own hands... I don't know, but I will kill him. I don't care if I rot in prison after that for the rest of my life."

His gaze was met by three pairs of astonished eyes after he made that statement. Not a single word that had come out of his mouth was a lie. His turned his gaze towards Sansa then, who still slept in Catelyn's warm embrace, and he felt himself coming undone at the sight of her. Slowly and carefully he raised his hand and he gently caressed Sansa's cheek with his rough fingers...

"You love her," Catelyn Stark suddenly whispered, and Sandor raised his gaze to meet hers. If he expected the mother of the woman he loved to be angry at him after that realization, or to hate him or resent him or be disgusted or repulsed by him like everyone else would have been, then he was disappointed. Catelyn Stark didn't look at him with any of those emotions. The only thing that was reflected in her eyes and that now replaced the anger that had previously been in them was understanding and realization. She was very calm, merely accepting the truth that was exposed in front of her very eyes. "And she loves you."

Slowly, Sandor nodded his head.

"Aye..." he said.

"I remember when I was buying with her the wedding dress. She was strange," Catelyn told him. "She wasn't excited about the dress or the wedding, and obviously I know why now... But I remember that there were some moments when her mind seemed to have slipped to some other place far away... And it was so confusing, because I could see that there was something wrong, though I didn't know what it was, but I also could see that she was in love... It was clearer than water. It is even clearer now. She was in love with you..."

Sandor was surprised to hear such words coming from Catelyn Stark, and the surprise was evident in his face. He clenched his jaw, which made the scars of his face slightly twist. Then he looked at Sansa again, and he caressed her cheek and also her hair more lovingly than before, not holding back as much as before. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. It was Robb Stark who spoke.

"We will get you out of here too," the President said, and Sandor looked at him. Robb wasn't looking at him; he was looking at Sansa. "She will want you to be with her when she's out of here. I will arrange for both of you to go someplace safe until all this mess is cleared out."

"Thank you," Sandor said, feeling genuinely grateful for the first time in a long time.

"No, thank you," Robb said. "For bringing her here, with us. Now she can go home thanks to you. And I'm sorry for being rude to you before, I was very..." he sighed. "I was very shocked by everything... Very upset. I still am..."

"Don't apologize, you have every right to be upset," Sandor told him.

"Still, thank you," Robb said, and then silence refined over all of them again.

During those long moments of silence everyone looked at Sansa, and they used those moments to think about all the things that had been said and discovered that day there. Sandor knew that that would be a sleepless night for all the Starks, for they all had many things to worry about. Robb would have to plan in his head over and over again what he was going to do with the information that he had been given, and plan how to cause the downfall of Joffrey Baratheon without endangering his family. Catelyn would probably toss and turn in her bed all night, unable to close her eyes, tormented by images of her husband's death, Sansa's suffering, and wondering about Arya's whereabouts. Talisa would have her worries too, because she had a young son and a husband to fear for. Sandor pitied them. He pitied them all.

"I think we should let her rest," Catelyn murmured then, referring to Sansa.

Everyone agreed with her. Sandor had no intention of taking her away from that mansion until she woke up and told him what she wanted to do; stay there hidden, or go back to the mansion and pretend that everything was back to normality until the time to escape arrived. It was still early, so he figured that it would be okay if Sansa continued sleeping for a few hours. He stood up from the couch and took Sansa in his arms. Catelyn stood up from the couch as well and walked with Sandor to the exit of the parlor. Robb and Talisa followed them.

"Take her to her old room," Catelyn told the bodyguard. "It's the one at the end of the right hallway in the-"

"I know where her room is," Sandor rasped, and he walked up the stairs with Sansa asleep in his arms.

He reached the bedroom and pushed the door open with the tip of his foot. The bedroom was almost the same as when Sansa had lived there more than a year ago, with its light green walls, the queen size bed, the closet with double doors, an oak wardrobe, an armchair, a library and a vanity. Sandor walked towards the bed and laid Sansa down on it, carefully placing her head on the pillow. Catelyn came inside the room a few seconds later with a blanket and covered her daughter with it while Robb and Talisa were watched from the door. Catelyn looked at them.

"I'm going to stay here with her," she whispered, not wanting to wake Sansa up. "I want to be here with her when she wakes up."

"Ok," Robb said, and he gently took his wife's arm. "Come on, Talisa. I have to make some calls... I need to arrange the flights and everything else..."

"I'll help you," Talisa said, and Robb and her walked away, leaving only Catelyn and Sandor in the room with Sansa.

Catelyn got on the bed next to Sansa and hugged her daughter while she slept. Sandor cleared his throat and made for the door.

"Well, I will be downstairs," he said, thinking that maybe he wasn't welcome there anymore, but Catelyn Stark stopped him.

"No, Clegane," she said, making him stop and look at her and Sansa again. "You can stay if you want."

He did want to stay, so he didn't turn down the offer. He walked over to where the armchair was and sat down on it. Once he did that Catelyn Stark rested her head on the pillow next to her daughter's, and then she closed her eyes. Not long after her slow breathing gave away that she had fallen asleep, jut like her daughter. At that moment, with the two Stark women lying on the bed side by side, with their eyes closed and their faces relaxed with peaceful expressions and their auburn hair spread all over the pillow, they looked almost completely identical, except for age.

Sandor watched them both for a long time. His mind kept racing with the events that had happened that day. He couldn't stop thinking about how that afternoon had gone, and he wasn't completely sure of how he felt. Part of him felt fear for what was to come now that the truth had been exposed to the Starks. He wasn't an idiot and he knew that that war against Joffrey was far from over, they still had a long way to go. But part of him felt very relieved, because at least they had already taken the first step, which was telling the truth. The first step was always the hardest... Now that the Starks were aware of the true and dark nature of Joffrey, Sansa wasn't alone in her war... And that was something that Sandor was very thankful for.

With those thoughts in mind, his eyelids became heavier and heavier as time passed, until he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep on the chair, just like Sansa and Catelyn had done. That had been a very long and hard day, and it still wasn't over.


	42. Smells Like Freedom.

The first thing that Robb did when he got to his office was to grab the bottle of whiskey that he had on a table next to the wall and pour himself a glass of the liquor, which he quickly swallowed in a single gulp. He wanted to pour himself another glass of whiskey, he wanted to drown himself in alcohol and fall into a deep sleep and forget everything. What he had learned today felt like torture. It felt even worse than torture, maybe. He knew that physical pain would end sooner or later, but the pain that he felt inside... There was no way of knowing when that kind of pain would fade away, if it ever did.

He couldn't pour the whiskey into the glass because his hands shook so much that the bottle almost slipped through his fingers and crashed against the floor, but it didn't. Instead he left the bottle again on the table, and then he walked towards the wooden desk of the office and put his hands on its hard surface. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He could feel his wife's hands on his shoulders.

"Robb?" she asked calling his name, worried about him. He hadn't said a single word since he left Sansa, his mother and Clegane upstairs in the bedroom that had once belonged to his sister.

Robb set his eyes on the phone on his desk, and almost took it. His intention while going downstairs was to pick up the phone and call his brother Jon so that he would go to Winterfell and get Bran, Rickon and Ned out of Westeros. But Robb couldn't just call and make Jon leave his military obligations just like that without calling even a little bit of attention, and Robb needed to be absolutely discreet about that whole affair. No one could notice, at least not now, that he was making his family leave the country and go far away... There would be questions, and questions always brought trouble.

He was going to call Bran then, and tell him to make sure that Rickon and Ned were safe. Robb knew that even though Bran was still very young he was a very responsible man, and he wouldn't let anything happen to his younger brother and his nephew. Robb could trust him... but could he trust everyone else?

 _What if they are listening to me?_ he wondered then, and his gaze wandered through the whole office. Where there any listening devices? Hidden cameras that he did not know about? Were the Lannisters or Joffrey closely watching his every move to know what he was up to? He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case...

 _That is absurd_ , he realized then. _Am I paranoid now?_

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. He didn't know... The only thing that he did know was that he did not dare to pick up the phone and call his brothers to tell them what had happened and that they had to leave, because he was afraid that somehow if he did that Joffrey would know. He could not risk Joffrey knowing...

 _This is ridiculous,_ he thought, referring to that sudden paranoia of being spied on.

But maybe it wasn't that ridiculous. Now he knew that Joffrey was able to do whatever he pleased to get what he wanted, so what would stop him from spying on the President of Westeros to get an advantage over him? A day ago Robb wouldn't have thought his Vice President and brother-in-law capable of doing that, but he had discovered things that had almost made his blood freeze in his veins because of the horror that they awoke in him. Joffrey had murdered his father... Joffrey had planned Theon's death, and he had been abusing his sister for such a long time...

Thinking about that made Robb want to pull at his hair and scream in agony. He remembered his fathers's funereal; that memory was as clear in his mind as if that day had happened only yesterday. Robb remembered the devastation that his entire family felt. He also remembered how sick he had felt when he learned of the details of his father's death. He remembered thinking: _What kind of soulless monster does something like that? Only the devil himself would be capable of committing such a crime._

And now he knew that Joffrey had been that monster, and that his sisters Sansa and Arya had been forced to witness everything... And that Sansa had had to sacrifice herself for the sake of the whole family and be with that beast...

Robb couldn't take it. He yelled and he slammed his fists on the hard wooden surface of the desk. Talisa immediately hugged him, trying to soothe her husband's sudden outburst of anger, pain and guilt. Robb's knees gave up from beneath him and he fell to the floor, taking his wife down with him. Robb sat on the floor, feeling helpless like a little child. Talisa kept hugging him tightly, not ever letting go of him.

"It's okay," she murmured, trying to call him down. "It's okay, Robb, everything will get better."

Robb tried to speak, but the words got caught up in his throat and they would leave his mouth. He found out then that he was crying. When had he started crying? He didn't know, but he was a sobbing mess. He couldn't speak, but the sound of his cries filled the office.

 _I'm sorry_ , he wanted to say. He needed to apologize to his father, to Sansa, to Arya, to Theon. To his mother and his brothers and his son and his wife. He had to apologize to them for not having known how to take care of them. It was his responsibility, and he had failed. _I'm so sorry..._

He couldn't say the words, but Talisa seemed to hear him anyways.

"It's okay..." she repeated again softly.

Robb shook his head. No, it want okay. It would never be okay...

Joffrey had to pay.

* * *

Back in Sansa's old room, Sandor woke up. He had fallen asleep on the armchair, and the position in which he had slept left him with a terrible back and neck pain. He groaned as he stretched. Sandor felt his bones cracking, and then he felt much better. He yawned, and then he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face and then he looked at the bed where the two Stark women were.

Catelyn Stark was already awake, and she was looking at her daughter while Sansa still slept. Catelyn was humming something softly, some song. It sounded like a lullaby, but Sandor couldn't really be sure that it was in fact a lullaby, because he did not recognize it. When he was a child his mother had been too busy, and often too sick to go to his room and night and song him lullabies, and in most nights she had to worry over Gregor's problematic behavior. Sandor pushed away those memories from his mind and he focused on listening to the soft music that came from Catelyn Stark. She didn't sing- well, she didn't hum,- as well as her daughter did. Sansa's voice was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but still that soft humming was very nice and it almost made him sleepy again.

He was about to close his eyes and doze off again when suddenly he noticed that Sansa was slightly stirring. He leaned forward on the armchair, and Catelyn Stark stopped humming when she also realized that her daughter was moving.

Sansa slowly opened her eyes. She blinked several times and then she looked up to stare at her mother. She looked confused at first, like she couldn't really remember where she was or why was she looking at her mother. Then her memories struck her and she sighed, but a few second skater a small smile took over her features.

"Hi Mom..." she whispered, still sounding a little bit sleepy.

"Hi baby," Catelyn said, and she kissed her forehead. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine..." Sansa murmured. "Could I have some water?"

"Of course. I will be right back."

Catelyn got off the bed, and after making sure that Sansa was completely covered with the blanket she left the room to fetch that glass of water that Sansa had asked for. Once Catelyn was out of the room Sandor stood up from the armchair and crossed the room towards the bed. Sansa saw him coming smiled; she made more room in the bed for Sandor, and he sat down on it.

"Hey," she whispered, looking up at his eyes.

"Hey," he murmured. "How are you?"

Sansa shrugged. "I'm fine, I guess... I have a headache... I suppose that it's from all the truth suddenly leaving my body. It feels like such a relief..."

"It should be," Sandor said. He caressed Sansa's face then, making her smile some more. "You are going to be out of here very soon."

"I can't believe it's finally happening..."

"Me neither," he admitted. It felt too good to be true, but good things had to happen from time to time, didn't they?

"When are we leaving?" Sansa asked. Sandor realized then that he would have to ask her what she wanted. Did she want to take a risk by hiding there until she could leave, or did she want to take a risk by going back to the mansion and faking that everything was back to normal for just three days?

"In three days," he said. "Listen, Sansa, there's something I have to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"Your brother days that he can definitely take you away in three days. But we need to decide what to do until then," Sandor told her, and Sansa's face became serious again. He just hoped that she didn't get mad because of the only two possible options that they had. Sandor took a deep breath before saying: "You can stay here and stay hidden. Then in three days Robb will somehow take you out and away, but you will be safe until then. Or... you could go back to the mansion and pretend that everything was normal and not raise any suspicion, and then you could escape in three days. I can promise you that nothing will happen to you while you stay back in the mansion if you do end up deciding to go there. But I won't take you there if you don't want to go," he quickly added, wanting Sansa to know that he would not force her to do anything. From now on everything was her own decision; she deserved as much.

Sansa thought about it for about three second before saying, with a voice full of convicting and security and without a shadow of doubt:

"I'll go back to the mansion," she said, taking Sandor completely by surprise. "If I run from Joffrey tonight he will know what I have done, he is not that stupid. I'll go with him, and I'll endure whatever I have to endure if that means I can escape in three days. What is three days compared to three years? It's worth it..."

 _Seven hells, she's much braver than I ever thought she was_ , Sandor thought. And she had already proved a thousand times how brave she is.

Sandor leaned down and kissed Sansa. It was only a chaste kiss of lips on lips, but that was all that both of them needed at that time. That was how Catelyn Stark found them when she returned, and she froze at the doorframe and almost dropped the glass of water that she carried in her hand. She stood there, watching Sansa and Sandor kissing unaware of her presence, somewhat stunned. Catelyn had accepted that her daughter and that man were in love, though she still could not imagine how that had come to happen. It was so bizarre, watching her daughter with that man... But Catelyn knew that love never made any sense.

She cleared her throat, and that was enough for Sansa and Sandor to end their kiss and look at her. She smiled at them and then went to the bed and gave Sansa the glass of water, which she drank.

Soon after, everyone was in the garage if the mansion saying their goodbyes, for it was late and Sandor and Sansa had to leave. She communicated to her family her decision to go back to the mansion and pretend that all things were normal. Her family respected it, but Sandor and Sansa could tell that no one really liked the idea. However, Sandor had given his word that nothing would happen to Sansa, and he was going to keep it.

"I'll see you in three days," Sansa said full of hope to her mother, brother and sister-in-law before getting in the car. Sansa couldn't stop smiling. Long gone were her tears and her fears from earlier that day, and Sandor was glad of that.

He drove back to the Vice President's mansion. It was a little past midnight, and already all the lights were out. Sansa was glad that apparently everyone was sleeping, but she knew that she would have to answer questions the next day. Sandor helped her to come up with a story to replace the real events that had happened with, and then he parked the car outside. He helped Sansa get out of the car and then he escorted her to the front door of the mansion, which he opened for her. He walked inside the mansion after her, but right after he closed the door a cold and hissing voice surprised them in the middle of the dark.

"Where have you been?"

Sansa almost screamed, startled. Even Sandor almost jumped a little.

The lights of the main hall turned on all of a sudden, filling the place with intense light and making Sandor and Sansa narrow their eyes. Joffrey was there, standing next to the light switch on the wall.

Although it was late and everyone else was already sleeping, Joffrey was still wearing his suit and he was obviously very much awake. The look in his eyes was... dangerous. Sansa gulped when she saw him, but she didn't cower in front of him and instead kept her head high. Joffrey glared at her through narrowed eyes; he wasn't possessed by the mad rage that had taken over him earlier that day, but traces of it remained in him and could be noticed from afar. When he saw Joffrey, Sandor took a slow step forward and got closer to Sansa, getting ready to act and protect her if need be. Fortunately, Joffrey stood still next to the wall, simply glaring daggers at them.

"I said..." Joffrey muttered, " _where have you been?"_

"We were-" Sansa started saying, but Joffrey interrupted her.

"I wasn't asking you."

Sansa shut up immediately, startled by Joffrey's hateful and cutting tone. Her husband glared at her one more time before setting his murderous green gaze on the bodyguard. Sandor remained unperturbed as he stared back at Joffrey, not showing even the slightest bit of emotion in his eyes and in his overall expression.

" _Where. Have. You. Been?_ " Joffrey asked one more time, losing his patience.

"She wanted me to drive her around," Sandor said, simply shrugging his shoulders. That was what Sansa and him had agreed earlier that they were going to say in case they were questioned. It wasn't a very good excuse, but any other lies could be easily discovered. "So I did."

Joffrey frowned and then he arched an eyebrow while he still glared at Sandor and his wife.

"You drove around... for five hours?" he asked skeptically.

Sandor merely shrugged and nodded his head, acting as naturally as he could. Joffrey stared at him for a few more seconds, doubting his words, but he knew that Sandor never lied- or at least, he _used_ to never lie- and so he finally ended up believing it. He looked at Sansa again, who was waiting for him to yell at her or something of the sort. Instead Joffrey made a quick movement of his head and motioned towards the staircase.

"Go to sleep," he said in a dry tone. His glare was still rough, but he seemed to be a bit pacific for the time being. "I have work to do."

Sansa didn't even say good night, not did she stop a second to give one last look to Joffrey and Sandor. She just nodded her head and quickly made for the stairs, wanting to avoid any possible conflict, which was understandable. Sandor didn't look at her while she left to avoid the risk of letting his emotions show in his face, and to prevent his eyes from lingering after her for too long while Joffrey was still there. After Sansa was gone Sandor simply said good bye to his boss and then left quickly, just like the girl had done. He was surprised that Joffrey hadn't wanted to ask any more questions...

 _Well, that was easy_ , he thought as he made for his own bedroom in the mansion. _Now we only have to put up with all this for three more days, and we will be gone._

Joffrey had stayed a few minutes in the hall looking at the stairs where they had disappeared, each one at a different time. He kept glaring, even though there was no one left there to glare at. After he got tired of standing there in the middle of the hall, he turned the lights off again and returned to his office walking through the darkness. He turned the lights on again after entering his office, and he sat behind his desk. Joffrey stared at the phone on the wooden desk. He stared at it in silence for what seemed to be endless minutes until he finally decided to pick it up and dial a number.

He had a very important call to make...

* * *

The next morning Sansa woke up alone in bed, a fact for which she was extremely glad and thankful. She always hated to wake up and find Joffrey lying there next to her, but after what had happened the previous day that morning she would have hated it even more. She thought that maybe she had slept late and that was why she was all alone. In fact, she had indeed slept late, but a quick glance at Joffrey's side of the bed confirmed her that she had been alone all night. She smiled.

She showered and quickly got dressed before leaving her room and going to the dining hall to have breakfast. The smile disappeared from her face when she saw that Joffrey was there, drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper. Sansa quickly glanced around the dining hall; no one else was there, not even the bodyguards.

She sat down on the table, and once Joffrey noticed her presence he looked at her, but he didn't say anything. Sansa stayed silent too, and she only murmured a soft 'thanks' to the maid that brought her her breakfast. She started to eat in silence, and Joffrey went back to reading the newspaper. The atmosphere around them was tense, and soon it also became kind of awkward, but Sansa did not want that silence to end, for she had absolutely no desire to speak with her husband. She was also glad that there wasn't anybody else in there with them; that way she did not have to make polite conversation...

However, the silence was soon broken by Joffrey. His words greatly surprised Sansa, though.

"Your brother called earlier," he informed her.

Sansa almost chocked on the orange juice that she was drinking, and she carefully put down the glass on the table.

"Oh?" was all she said. She could feel her heart beating very fast in her chest, and she hoped that Joffrey wouldn't notice. She was nervous. What had Robb said to Joffrey? Why had he called? "What for?"

"He wanted to talk to you, actually, but I did not want to wake you up. You looked so... exhausted," Joffrey said, and something in his voice made Sansa sick. "He wanted to inform us that he and your mother and sister-in-law are returning North for the annual ceremony in honor of your father. It's the anniversary of his death."

Sansa almost gripped the breakfast knife in her hand, and she felt an extremely violent urge taking over her. She glared at Joffrey, even though she knew she shouldn't do that in case that she might provoke him.

 _You killed him_ , she muttered in her mind. _It's the anniversary of his murder because of you._

It didn't escape her how Joffrey's lips slightly curled up in a smile full of satisfaction. It almost made Sansa throw up.

"Of course, he invited us to fly north with him. I declined. I am a very busy man."

_Thank God that you don't have the nerve to accept going to that ceremony._

"And what excuse did you put for me not going?" she asked. Joffrey always forbade her to go anywhere with her family and without him. That time would be no exception, and she would have to work up some plan with her family to get her out of that damned place...

"Oh, I didn't put any excuse," Joffrey said then, confusing Sansa. "You can go."

"What?" she asked, stunned. She wasn't sure that she had heard right. Had Joffrey just said that she could go?

"You can go," he repeated. He was still reading the newspaper distractedly, ignoring the way in which Sansa almost gaped at him, completely surprised. "Maybe you should start packing, you leave the day after tomorrow at morning."

"But, w-why...?" Sansa mumbled. She could not understand it. She was extremely glad that Joffrey was allowing her to go and thus saving her a lot of trouble, but she could not understand why he was doing that.

"I can't forbid you to go everywhere with your family, and much less to such an event," Joffrey simply answered. "It would look very suspicious... Besides, I trust that you won't make any stupid decisions while you are away... Or will you, Sansa?"

Sansa gulped. She knew what Joffrey meant. He meant that he trusted that she wouldn't do exactly what she had done yesterday.

 _Too late,_ she thought, and for the first time she savored victory. However, she nodded.

"Of course..."

"Good. But there's one more thing," Joffrey said, and then he did put down the newspapers and he looked at his wife. "Clegane stays here."

It took all the self-control that Sansa had not to widen her eyes with horror and gasp. What? Sandor couldn't go with her? _But why?!_

 _But he was going to come to the North with me_ , she thought, suddenly feeling all the victory and the happiness fading away. _We were supposed to leave together!_

 _Calm down, he can find another way to go with you_ , a voice in the back of her mind said, calming her down.

"Why?" she asked, and she somehow managed to keep her voice from shaking and giving away her disappointment.

"He is my best bodyguard. I need him here."

"But we will be back in a few days," Sansa lied.

"I need him while you are gone," Joffrey insisted. Sansa didn't know how to argue against him without making it look suspicious. "Your family's bodyguards will suffice for you, I'm sure."

"I thought you wanted him to control me," she reminded her husband the reason why he had out Sandor at her service in the first place. "He's the only one that can properly keep an eye on me."

"I don't need him to keep an eye on you anymore," Joffrey said, and for some reason that made Sansa frown and feel even more confused than she had felt before.

 _Does he really trust me that much?_ she wondered. _Well, Sandor is a smart and resourceful man, he can catch a plane and go North after he gets rid of whatever job Joffrey has for him..._

She tried to convince herself of that, but the disappointment and the sadness wouldn't go away. She had wanted to leave with Sandor, and she hated the thought of having to do it without him. How would he react to the news? Sansa knew that Sandor would be furious, but there was no way of avoiding having to be separated for a short while.

"All right," she ended up saying, feeling defeated but sounding completely normal, like she didn't care the slightest bit about her bodyguard.

"Good. Oh, and one last thing, Sansa," Joffrey said then. "Do you remember that song that I asked you to record?"

Not long ago, Joffrey had given to her the lyrics of an old song and had asked her to record it professionally with music and all in the studio and put it in a CD. Sansa never knew why Joffrey had made her such a request, but she had done it anyways. She nodded.

"Do you have the CD?" Joffrey asked, and again Sansa nodded. "Bring it to me."

Sansa stood up from the table and left the dining hall. She returned a couple of minutes later with a CD in her hands. She handed it over to Joffrey, who smiled when he took it. Sansa sat down again on her chair and looked at the CD with curiosity.

" _The Rains of Castamere_ ," she murmured, saying the name of the song. "I heard about it one time. It was written back in the Middle Ages by your family, was it not?" she never talked to Joffrey, true, but music was her favorite topic, and she couldn't stop herself. She felt too much curiosity to stay silent.

"It was, yes," Joffrey nodded. "The Lannisters were one of the most powerful families back then as well, when they were lords and ladies. They were even kings once, before other kings took over and then times changed and democracy came along," he commented. "This song was written after one of my ancestors fought against rebels and won the war."

"It is a fascinating song," Sansa murmured, more to herself than to Joffrey.

Again, he husband nodded. He kept looking at the CD that had " _the Rains of Castamere_ " written in red marker on it as if he was hypnotized by it.

"It is," he said. "Thank you, Sansa."

Once again, Sansa was surprised that morning by something that Joffrey said. He never thanked her for anything, but she could tell that he had meant what he had said.

"You are welcome," she said, a bit hesitant and confused, but still. She stood up from the table after she was done having breakfast. "I'm going to go, I have a lot of things to do..."

She left the dining hall and walked up the stairs again. She was feeling many things all at once; she was confused because of Joffrey's strange and docile behavior that morning, and sad because of the news that she would have to leave Sandor behind, at least for a little while... But above those things, she was feeling happy. She was finally going home...

She did not get to see the way in which Joffrey grinned after she turned her back on him, nor did she ever notice the strange shimmering of his eyes as he looked down at the CD.


	43. Now We Stand At Heaven's Doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this chapter.

Sansa almost jumped up and down of excitement on her seat in the private jet. She was sitting next to the window and she looked out through the glass, watching with glimmering and wide-open eyes the military airport of King's Landing. She couldn't wait for the jet to take off and finally get her far away from that place, back to the North! She couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't believe that she was finally in that jet, with her family, ready to leave that hell of a life behind.

She hadn't spent a lot of time packing, since she was only supposed to stay in the North for a few days. Besides, once she reached the North she was going to almost immediately leave the country and go into hiding with her brothers and her nephew to some place safe, where Joffrey could never find them until he was finally locked behind bars for his crimes, and his accomplices too. So because she had to basically run out of the country, Sansa had only packed a few essentials and nothing else; she could replace everything else once she was away from there.

Next to her was seated her mother, who looked at her with a big smile on her face. Catelyn was happy to see her daughter so excited. She raised a hand to touch Sansa's auburn hair, so soft and identical to hers. When Sansa felt her mother's hand in her hair she turned to face her, returning Catelyn's smile.

"Are you happy?" Catelyn asked, though the answer was obvious. Sansa quickly nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I can't believe this is finally happening..."

She felt like she could almost shed tears of joy. She was escaping! She was going to be free! Well, she wouldn't exactly be free, because going into hiding wasn't exactly having a lot of freedom, but at least she wouldn't have to spend every day with that monster that had been tormenting her, hitting her, threatening her, forcing her to marry him... And before long he would be gone forever, and she would be able to come back and have a happy, peaceful life. It was all going to be perfect...

Though it wasn't as perfect yet as she would have wanted it to be. The original plan consisted in Sandor leaving with her, but he had had to stay behind. Sansa had been the one to tell him that Joffrey had not given him permission to fly to the North with her because he needed Sandor in the capital with him. After Sansa told him that, Sandor had become so furious that Sansa had feared that he would hit Joffrey and strangle him with his own hands. But Sandor had calmed down, and then he had told her that as soon as he could he would catch a plane behind Joffrey's back and meet her in the North, and then he would go with her to whatever place on Earth her brother sent them to. Sansa had smiled, cheered up by the thought that she and Sandor would be reunited soon and that they would run off together. That morning, when he came to her room to tell that her brother had come to pick her up, he had kissed her good bye. It had been a short and passionate kiss, that had been at the same time bitter and sweet. Bitter because it was a good bye kiss. Sweet because it was a "we will be together soon" kiss...

Sansa didn't realize that she had slipped deep into some corner of her mind while thinking of Sandor, but she snapped out of it when her mother called her name for the fifth time. Sansa shook her head to clear her mind and found her mother staring at her.

"Sorry," she apologized with a shy smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed because she had been ignoring her mother while thinking of Sandor. She blushed, and a knowing look took hold of Catelyn's blue eyes.

"You were thinking of him?" she asked, though again the answer was obvious. Sansa couldn't help but chuckle, and she blushed even more until her face matched her hair. She nodded.

"Yes," she said. It still felt awkward, talking to her mother about Sandor. Sansa supposed that it felt like that because she had kept the relationship hidden from everybody for such a long time, and it felt odd to have her whole family knowing about it now. It was extremely relieving that they all seemed to accept it, though she guessed that they would have no problem accepting anyone who wasn't Joffrey.

"I'm sorry that he had to stay behind," Catelyn said, and Sansa shrugged and sighed.

"Well, Joffrey had to ruin the day in some way or another," she said. "But Sandor will join us as soon as he can."

"You will be together again soon," her mother told her while smiling, and Sansa smiled too.

"Yeah, I know..."

"I thought he was such a scary man when I first saw him," Catelyn commented then. "I can see now that he is a nice person, in his own way... But it shocked me that you were together. He doesn't look like your type."

After her mother said that, Sansa laughed wholeheartedly. It was true, Sandor definitely wasn't her type, but who cared about types anymore?!

"I know," she agreed, "but I love him all the same."

"And he loves you. He practically looked at you like you were a goddess!" Catelyn exclaimed, and Sansa giggled like a school girl and blushed even more.

Before Catelyn could say anything else to Sansa, her phone started ringing in her purse. Catelyn found her phone and picked it up, answering the call.

"Hello? Bran! No, we are still in King's Landing. We will be leaving soon, though. How is Rickon, is he around there? Tell him that the house better be in a good condition when I get there, or he will be sorry!" she said in a half-serious half-joking tone.

Catelyn continued speaking to her son, and Sansa looked around the jet and looked at Robb and Talisa, who were sitting together in the other side of the jet. Both of them were also talking on the phone, Robb with Jon and Talisa with Ned. Everybody wanted to wish them a good trip. Sansa had spoken with them before, so she was the only one sitting quietly on her seat while the others talked and talked.

Sansa had her own phone in her hand, but it was silent. She had a new phone that her brother had given to her that morning when he picked her up, because the old one was being spied on by Joffrey. She had texted the new number to Sandor right after she got inside the car after leaving the mansion. She couldn't help but look down at its screen, and she wished that Sandor would call. She wanted to hear his voice one more time before the plane took off and she had to be stuck there for hours before it landed in the North. She couldn't call Sandor, because she did not want to risk calling him while he was in Joffrey's presence or some other Lannister. She had to put her phone away back inside her purse to resist the urge of calling him.

 _I'll see him soon_ , she reminded herself as she leaned back on the seat and went back to looking outside the window. _I'll speak with him then. I have all the time in the world to hear his voice. I won't have to miss him anymore._

She couldn't wait for that day to finally come. She just needed to have a little bit more of patience...

* * *

Joffrey was in an oddly good mood that day. Sandor couldn't remember the last time when he had seen his boss looking to completely and utterly happy, he was like a small child that had just been given a box full of candy. Sandor wondered what made the prick smile so much, but he noticed that he had been in a rather good and strange mood in the last three days. Sandor had looked miserable when he watched Sansa leaving the mansion and entering the car that took her away, but when that happened Joffrey's smile just became even wider than it had been before. It only made Sandor frown and feel more confused than ever before. He watched as the little shit went back inside the mansion and practically strutted around the hallways.

 _What the fuck is wrong with him?_ Sandor asked himself. _He can't be so happy that Sansa left. She's going to be with her family, that's his worst nightmare._

Sandor stopped trying to understand the reasons behind most of Joffrey's actions, and he also stopped trying to understand his mood and emotions. There was no way in hell that anyone could ever understand a mind as twisted as Joffrey Baratheon's, and Sandor wasn't about to give himself a headache by trying to be the one to figure it all out.

He found Joffrey in his office, drinking a glass of wine. A bottle of the finest Dornish red was on the desk in front of him. Sandor raised his eyebrows when he saw that.

_Is he celebrating? What the fuck?_

Sandor knocked on the open door to announce his presence in the office, and Joffrey raised his gaze from the papers that he was reading to look at Sandor. His expression still glowed with satisfaction, but Sandor's expression was bored and annoyed.

 _He better have had a good reason to keep me here and make me watch as the little bird went away to find her freedom without me_ , Sandor thought. He was glad that Sansa was already out of there even if it was without him, though, but it annoyed him to no end that Joffrey had made them be away from each other again.

"Yes, Clegane?" Joffrey asked when he saw the bodyguard standing in the entrance of his office.

"Do you need me for anything today, sir?" Sandor asked. He figured that there was something really important that he had to do that day for Joffrey, because why would the Vice President had made him stay there instead of telling to go with Sansa, as always?

To his surprise, Joffrey shook his head and shrugged.

"No," he answered, leaving Sandor even more confused than he had already been. He couldn't help but frowning.

"Then why did you tell me to stay?" he wondered, trying not to make his voice sound full of spite. He was quickly getting angered.

 _Fucking little shit,_ he muttered in his mind. _There must be a reason, he couldn't have just told me to stay to fuck up our plans!_

Again, Joffrey shrugged, leaving Sandor even more perplexed.

"Just because," was his carefree answer. "You were of no use to me in the North. Now, you can have the day off for yourself. In fact, take all the days off that you want."

_What the fuck?!_

Joffrey went back to reading the documents in front of him, so he didn't get to see the way in which Sandor clenched his jaw and turned his hands into trembling fists. Sandor wanted to close the distance between himself and Joffrey and smash the man's face against the wooden desk, but that would be counterproductive. He took a deep breath and calmed down. Joffrey had given the day off to himself. Good. That was very, very good...

"Thank you," he rasped before leaving the office. He meant that 'thank you', for Joffrey had just left the doors open for him to finally leave that place and get the hell away from there to reunite with his little bird.

Sandor hurried to his room. He changed into normal clothes and then he took all the money that he had, which wasn't much but was enough, and his passport and shoved them into his pockets, and then he left the room again with not so much as a last glance at it. He didn't pack anything because he couldn't walk out of the mansion with a suitcase without looking suspicious, and he didn't care to take anything with him. He could replace everything once little bird and him were far away from there.

He left the mansion and took one of the cars, the black Mercedes that was always at his disposition. He didn't waste any time and he quickly got to the road in direction to the airport, leaving the Red Keep mansion and Joffrey and all the fucking Lannisters behind. He wasn't planning of ever going back.

 _Bugger them all,_ he thought as he drove away, and he couldn't help but smile a little bird when he realized what he was doing. He was leaving! He was sending it all to hell, the life that he had always known, to go with Sansa and always be with her. That was the only kind of life that he wanted to have.

 _Finally,_ he thought after recalling the last two years. His life had been a fucking emotional roller coaster ever since he met Sansa that night so long ago at a concert that he did not want to go to, but he wouldn't change it for anything. Sansa was finally free, and she wanted him to be with her. What could be better than that?

Sandor drove to the normal airport instead of to the military airport because he knew that there was no way in hell that he would reach that place in time before the jet took off. Maybe it had already left. Just to be sure he picked up his phone from his pocket. He knew that he should r be on the phone while he drove, but that was an emergency. He quickly dialed Sansa's new number and out the phone in speaker, leaving it on the passenger's seat while it rang.

* * *

Sansa had closed her eyes when suddenly her own phone started ringing, startling her. She opened her eyes and fished the cell phone from inside her purse, and she gasped when she called who the caller was. A huge smile took over her expression, and she quickly pressed the green button on the screen and took the phone to her ear.

"Sandor!" she exclaimed full of joy, making everybody look at her.

" _Little bird,_ " she heard him say at the other side of the line. Oh, she had just seen him less than two hours ago, and she was already missing him so much! " _I thought you wouldn't pick up. Hasn't your flight left yet?"_

"No, we are still here... How are you? Are you driving?" she asked when she heard the sound of cars passing by in a road.

" _Yeah, I'm heading to the airport,_ " Sandor said then, making Sansa gasp again.

"To the airport? Why?"

" _Your stupid husband gave me the day off, so I'm not staying in that mansion for another fucking moment. I'll get a ticket on the first flight to the North available, and once I get there I'll go see you and I'll kiss you senseless, little bird, you'll see."_

"Wait, you are going to the airport to fly to the North? Now?!"

" _Yes."_

"Wait!" she put Sandor on hold and turned her head to look at her brother, who had just gotten off the phone from speaking with Jon. "Robb! How soon are we leaving?"

Robb checked the time on his watch. "In about ten minutes. I don't think your boyfriend will make it here in time, we really need to leave," he said with an apologetic look to his sister.

Sansa was disappointed, but she knew that Robb was right. They couldn't wait more, and the drive from the Red Keep mansion to the military airport of King's Landing was a long one. It had taken them an hour to get there, and they hadn't had any traffic. Sandor wouldn't have that privilege.

Then suddenly an idea struck her mind, making her eyes go wide. She knew it was crazy, and she knew that her brother would probably say no to it, but she had to try. She but her bit a little with hesitation before asking:

"Can I go with him?"

As she had deduced, Robb stared at her with wide and confused eyes.

" _What?"_

"Please! I know it's crazy and stupid but I will be biting my nails off if I have to wait to get there to see him!" she said with a pleading tone, begging her brother to listen to her. She could see her mother looking at her from the corner of her eyes too. "Please, Robb, _please."_

"Are you crazy? No! How are you going to take a plane with him alone? What if they see you?"

"So what? He is my bodyguard, everyone is used to seeing me with him everywhere by now! And if Joffrey finds out, then screw him, he can't do anything to me anymore once I'm in that plane!" she said, surprising everyone with her use of the word 'screw'.

" _What? Sansa, no,_ " she heard Sandor saying in the phone, but only she could hear him. " _Sansa, stay with your family! You are much safer in that jet! Sansa!"_

She didn't listen to him, and she hung up the phone after quickly telling him that she would call him back soon. She continued looking at Robb with pleading eyes, and he looked at her with complete seriousness, about to say 'no' to her request once more. Their mother spoke then.

"Let her go, Robb," Catelyn said, surprising both of her children. "If that is what she wants then you can't stop her. She's more than capable of making her own decisions."

Robb hesitated, but finally he sighed and rolled his eyes, defeated. He couldn't say no when both his mother and his sister were asking him to say yes.

"Okay," he muttered. "But call Bran to tell him when your flight leaves, and call me as soon as you get off the plane, understood? I'll have someone waiting in the airport the whole time so that you can leave as soon as you get there."

Sansa squealed, feeling immensely happy that Robb had allowed her to go. She agreed to all his requests, knowing that it was only fair after all. She quickly gathered all her things and stood up from her seat. She hugged her mother, who was still smiling at her.

"Thank you so much, Mom," she said, thanking her mother for helping her. "You are the best."

"You deserve to be happy," her mother told her, and kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Then she went to where Robb was sitting and hugged him. He hugged her back, and Sansa kissed him in her cheek as well.

"Thank you," she said to him, and Robb grinned.

"If that damn bodyguard doesn't take care of you properly, I'll kick his ass when I see him!" he exclaimed, making Sansa laugh.

"You wish!" she exclaimed, amused. She hugged Robb again. "I love you, Robb."

"I love you too, sis," he said. "Take care, all right?"

"I will," she said, and then she hugged Talisa good bye. "Good bye!" she said as she made her way to get off the jet.

"Good bye!" her family exclaimed after her.

Sansa got off the jet, helped by the flight attendant that was at the top of the stairs that led to the runway. One of Robb's bodyguards went with her to the car, which was still there. Robb had quickly ordered his bodyguard to accompany Sansa at all times, and his chauffeur would drive her all the way to the airport. She got inside the car, unable to stop smiling, and she out on her seatbelt. After the bodyguard got into the passenger's seat and told the chauffeur where to go, they left, making their way to the airport. Sansa knew that her probably couldn't see her, but she waved goodbye to her family while looking at the windows of the jet. She didn't stop looking at the jet while they were still close enough. She read the words that were on the side of the small private jet and that she hadn't seen before: _Frey Airlines._

Those words were the first thing that she stopped seeing after the car drove away from the runway. Eventually she stopped seeing the jet when they left the military airport. They were in the road heading directly to the airport a few minutes later, and Sansa could see how the jet came back into her view when it took off. She watched in see as it rose to the sky, becoming smaller and smaller the higher that it raised towards the clouds.

 _I'll see you soon,_ she thought as she watched the jet disappear in the distance.

Then, Sansa took out her phone. She had to call Sandor and tell him that she was heading in his direction.

* * *

There was turbulence ever since the jet took off. Robb took a deep breath to relax. He hated flying, but he had to do it so often that he had gotten used to it. He had chosen the jet to be from _Frey Airlines_ because they built the best private jets and usually he was more comfortable in them than in other jets and planes, but the turbulence was still there. Talisa noticed his discomfort and smiled, amused. He saw her from the corner of his eye and grunted.

"It's not funny."

"It is," she said, smiling.

Robb couldn't stop thinking about Sansa. He wasn't sure if it had been the wisest decision to let her go, but he knew that she would be in capable hands. Besides, his mother was right, he couldn't tell Sansa what to do and what not to do, she was a grown woman completely capable of making her own choices. If she wanted to fly with Sandor Clegane and that was going to make her happier and feel better, the. Who was he to say no? He couldn't help but feel nervous, of course, because he didn't know how safe Sansa would be. He hoped that everything would be alright and there weren't any problems.

"You are worried," Talisa said, noticing the lines in Robb's now frowned forehead. He nodded.

"Sansa is my little sister, and this city is dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous, of course in worried."

"She will be all right."

"I know. I still worry, though."

"Well, that's natural."

More turbulence. Robb hissed, and Talisa took his hand.

"Damn it," he muttered between gritted teeth. "I hate flying."

"Don't be such a baby," Talisa chuckled, and he glared at his wife. He couldn't help but laugh later as well.

"This is pathetic," he said, shaking his head. "I never liked flying. I should take the train the next time, I like it better."

"It takes more hours to get to the North in a train," Talisa pointed out.

"I don't care, I will take the train. This thing moves too much."

One of the two flight attendants that were in the jet with them came over to where they were seated and asked them if they wanted anything to drink. Talisa asked for water and Robb asked for whiskey. He needed something to make his mind foggy during the flight. He really, really hated flying.

When the flight attendant brought him the glass of whiskey he almost drank it all in a single gulp, but he left a little bit, a he put it down on the small table in front of him. He sighed and looked at his wife, and then at his mother who was now sitting alone on the other side of the jet. Catelyn didn't like flying either, but she didn't hate it as much as her son did.

"What are we going to do once we get there?" Talisa asked then softly, wondering what their fate was going to be.

"We will stay a day in Winterfell and pretend that everything is normal," Robb told her, taking his mind off the turbulence for a second to answer to the question. "Then Sansa, Ned, Bran and Rickon will take a night flight to Europe. I was thinking of sending them to Ireland, and then start moving them around Europe so that they can't be found. Just in case."

"Ok," his wife whispered, not finding anything to disagree with.

"Also... I want you and my mother to go with them," Robb said then. "I don't want you here, it will not be safe."

"What? No! I'm staying," Talisa protested then, making Catelyn Stark look over in their direction with curiosity, wondering what was going on. "I'm not leaving you."

"Talisa, it will be dangerous," Robb insisted. "I'm sending my siblings and our son away to keep them safe, and I want you both to go too. You should be with Ned, he needs you more than I do."

Talisa was going to protest, but she knew that her husband was right, Ned did need her. He was just a child, and he needed his mother. His whole world was about to turn upside down, and it would not be fair for him to be alone.

"Ok," she agreed then, and she softly kissed her husband on the lips. "But just because of Ned."

The next half an hour of the flight were somewhat peaceful. They passed in silence, save for the low music that played through the speakers of the jet. It was relaxing music, and it helped Robb distract himself a little. The turbulence did not go away; in fact, it became worse. The clenched his jaw and did his best to not protest.

He closed his eyes, wanting to try to get some sleep. Like that the flight would go fast quickly...

The song that had been playing for the last three minutes ended and was replaced for a new one. The new song called his attention, because the sound was louder than that of the previous songs.

" _And who are you, the proud lord said,  
That I must bow so low..._ "

Robb frowned, and he opened his right eye. He did not know the song, but the female voice was so familiar... Beautiful, soft and strong at the same time, almost hypnotic. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

" _Only a cat with a different coat,  
That's all the truth I know..._ "

"That's Sansa," Catelyn was the first one to say out loud, though everyone else had already noticed it.

"I had never heard that song," Talisa said, listening with interest. "It's not from one of her albums. Is it a new single?"

Robb hoped it wasn't. He liked his sister's singing, and he recognized that she had great talent, but he did not like the song. It wasn't that he didn't like the lyrics or the melody, he just didn't like the feeling that the song gave him. It was so... dark. It made him feel a hole in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't put his finger in what it was that was making him have such a bad feeling, but he wasn't liking it. He want liking it at all.

" _In a coat of gold, or a coat if red,  
A lion still had claws..._ "

"The Rains of Castamere," Catelyn murmured, recognizing the lyrics. All the color was drained from her face, and Robb frowned when he saw his mother's expression change like that.

"Mother, what's wrong?" he asked.

"That's a Lannister song," his mother said.

Right after she pronounced those words, the jet shook violently, making them scream. It wasn't turbulence, it was actual shaking. Bags fell to the floor, and Robb's glass of whiskey fell to the floor as well and shattered in tiny pieces. The only thing that prevented the three of them to fall off their seats was the seat belts that they were wearing. The two flight attendants did scream as they fell down.

"What the hell?!" Robb exclaimed, and the jet shook again, even more violently than before.

The lights flickered. Talisa and Catekyb screamed, while Robb held on to his seat to try to keep himself steady. He was too scared to scream. He felt the hole in the pit of his stomach spreading all through his body. His heart was in his throat, beating a thousand times per minute.

" _And mine are long, and sharp my lord,  
As long and sharp as yours..._ " Sansa continued singing through the speaking of the shaking jet.

" _What is happening?!_ " Catelyn wailed, panic taking over her.

"I don't know!" Robb shouted. However, in the back of his mind, he knew exactly what was happening...

 _Joffrey,_ he thought. He could practically see the man in his mind, laughing hysterically after having fooled them all. Because that was what he had done, he had fooled them. Just when the Starks thought that they were going to win, they found out that they had already lost the game.

Robb wanted to scream full of rage. He had been defeated. He had wanted to protect his family, and in the process he had led them directly to the wolf's den!

" _And so he spoke, and so he spoke,  
That lord of Castamere..."_ Sansa continued singing, her voice providing an eerie feeling to the whole situation. She could be heard over the screams, over the noise of things falling to the floor and shattering against it, over the noise of the screaming engines of the jet. It was like torture.

"Mayday!" a male voice could be heard shouting panicked from behind the closed door of the cockpit: the pilot. "Mayday!"

The jet shook her again. The violent moment made Robb hit his head against the window beside him, making him dizzy. Blood ran down his face from an open cut in his temple. He felt his was spinning, and the screams of his mother and his wife and the flight attendants seemed distant and muffled for a couple of seconds...

The jet shook yet again, and suddenly it baked forward, making the front of the jet point towards the ground thousands of feet below them and the tail raise higher towards the sky. At Robb's side, Talisa screamed and started crying completely panicked.

"Oh, God, _please!"_ she cried. " _No! **Please, no!"**_

_"Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,  
and not a soul to hear..."_

The jet started nose diving towards the ground, falling from the sky at an increasing speed. The sound of the engines was so loud that it was almost deafening, the shaking of the jet was so violent that everything became blurry to their eyes. As they fell, Robb somehow came back to his full senses again, and the reality of what was happening hit him like a truck at full speed.

 _We are going to die,_ he realized, almost too late. His wife's and his mother's scream were tearing at his soul, and he wished he could somehow make them disappear from them and take them somewhere safe. It was what he had been trying to do, and he had failed miserably. _At least Sansa got out. She's safe, she'll live another day._

It was strange, how peaceful that thought made him feel all of a sudden. The fear was still there, and the panic, and the desperation and the anger, but at least the was hope in his heart for his sister, the only one who would survive that tragedy. At least he had succeeded at keeping her safe...

" _And so he spoke, and so he spoke,  
That lord of Castamere..."_

 _What sick game do you think you are playing, Joffrey?_ Robb asked in his mind as the her kept falling down. One look through the window revealed how awfully close the ground was, becoming closer and closer with each fraction of a second that passed. He couldn't stop listening to his sister singing in the radio, though.

 _One that I'm winning,_ Joffrey's voice replied to him in his mind.

Robb hugged his screaming wife, and she held on to him as if it was for dear life. There was nothing left to do after all. Robb extended one of his arms towards his mother, who was sitting alone and terrified.

 _Mother, please_ , he thought, wanting her to hold his hand. He didn't want her to be alone in that final moment.

"Mother..." he murmured, his voice low and weak and almost inaudible under all the noise from the falling jet.

But Catelyn heard him. She opened her eyes, which were swollen and scared and full of tears. She looked at Robb and then at his hand, and the she took it, holding it tight with her own trembling hand.

" _Mayday! Mayday!"_ they heard the shouting coming from the cockpit again. _"We are going down! **We are going down!"**_

Robb closed his eyes. The end came too quickly, almost taking them by surprise. None of them felt a thing.

" _And now the rains weep o'er his hall,  
and not a soul to hear..."_

The jet hit the cold hard ground, to which it had fallen all the way from the sky, shattering into thousands of pieces. There was a devastating explosion, flames...

Then it all became dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Runs away and hides under a rock.*


	44. Getting Away With Murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize so much for the previous chapter. It had to happen. Over the process of writing this fic I have changed many things, but that plane crash had been there since the beginning and it was going to stay :S Believe me, it was very difficult for me to write, specially since I hate planes with a passion and they have to knock me out whenever I'm in one because of panic attacks. 
> 
> Now, let the story go on. It's going to be a bumpy ride...
> 
> Talking about bumpy rides, I've been 6 hours inside a car writing this fic while my uncle drives, so it was difficult to write like that. I couldn't proof read this chapter yet so let me know of any mistakes and typos you see and I'll fix them. 
> 
> I forgot to mention the title of the previous chapter comes from a song called "Invincible" by All Good Things.
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from a song of the same name by Papa Roach.

Joffrey entertained himself by pouring himself another glass of wine. The bottle that he had opened that day was of excellent quality, and even though it was still early, he was already celebrating his victory.

He took a quick look at his watch. The time was 12:45pm, which meant that the flight of the President had left the military airport of King's Landing over an hour ago. Wondering if the moment that he had so patiently awaited had already come, Joffrey turned on the small flat TV had he had in his office. The news were on, and the newscaster was talking about some important sports event when suddenly the image was replaced with a message that read " _ **Breaking News.**_ " As soon as he saw that, Joffrey leaned forward on his chair and he watched the news with renewed interest and a glimmer of anticipation in his vicious green eyes.

The message went away, letting the viewers see the newscaster that had been speaking before again. The man looked extremely shocked and upset for a very brief second, before his face went back to the almost expressionless look that almost all the newscasters had, and after clearing his throat he proceeded to give the news that he had just received. There were some cracks in his attempt to appear emotionless, but Joffrey could see that all the color had drained from the newscaster's face, and he could see a shadow of disbelief in the man's eyes, and drops of sweat that appeared on his forehead. Seeing the state of shock and nervousness and disbelief in which the newscaster was, Joffrey had no doubt of what the breaking news were. He grinned maliciously.

"Yes..." he murmured under his breath, feeling victorious already. He couldn't wait to hear the words coming out of the newscaster's mouth, though. He wanted to hear with his own ears that the tragedy had happened, and he wanted the whole world to know it too. "Come on, say it..."

" _I'm sorry for this interruption,_ " the newscaster said. His voice didn't sound like before, when it had been normal. Now it was low, serious, and with a tint of uneasiness to it. " _Ladies and gentlemen, we are now being informed that the private jet in which President Robb Stark travelled with the First Lady Talisa Maegyr-Stark and with his mother, Catelyn Stark, and his sister, Sansa Stark, wife of Vice President Joffrey Baratheon, has crashed 300 miles away from King's Landing._ "

" _Yes!"_ Joffrey shouted, and then he laughed. He couldn't take his eyes away from the TV, fixing his cruel gaze on the newscaster, who was having difficulty saying the next part of the news that were, without doubt, being devastating for the rest of the country. Joffrey, on the other hand, was beside himself with joy. "What are you waiting for?!" he shouted to the newscaster in the TV as if the man could hear him. " _Say it!_ "

" _Firefighters are currently in the crash site trying to recover the black box. We don't have all of the details yet, but there are no reported survivors."_

" _HA!"_ Joffrey slammed his hand against the surface of the desk and stood up from his chair. He held the glass of wine up in the air and made a toast to himself before drinking it all in one gulp. He left the empty glass on the desk and had to fight the urge to start dancing around his office to celebrate his triumph.

 _Robb Stark is dead!_ a merry voice exclaimed in his mind. _Dead, dead, dead! Dead and out of my way!_

He felt like he could sing out of pure, sadistic joy. The look in his eyes darkened, taken over by a terrifying and evil glow, born out of the satisfaction that his black heart obtained for the murder of a good man.

The news cut to footage taken from a helicopter of the crash. Joffrey contemplated his masterpiece, fascinated by the destruction that he had caused. The jet was completely destroyed, shattered in pieces that were scattered all over the field where it had crashed. The metal was blackened, and some pieces of the wreck were in flames, showing that there had been an explosion. A huge column of smoke rose to the sky, visible from miles away. No survivors, the newscaster had say. Of course that there were no survivors, no one could walk away from that mess!

 _Dead,_ Joffrey thought again, savoring the delightful word in his mind. _The President is dead. And so is that wife of his, his whore mother, and my sweet, stupid wife._

Sansa. Joffrey thought about her then, and pictured her face in his mind. Sansa was dead as well, making him a widower. Sansa had been beautiful, but now she was gone, and she was more useful to him dead than she had been when she was alive.

 _I can't say that in sorry_ , Joffrey thought with a grin on his face. He poured himself another glass of wine and made a silent toast to his deceased wife, whose beauty was the absolute only thing that he was going to miss about her.

He was drinking when suddenly the door of his office opened and his grandfather Tywin walked in. Tywin Lannister had been visiting and staying in the mansion while he attended some business in the capital, and he had also watched the news. He didn't look shocked nor horrified, because he wasn't. He did feel immensely surprised though, and he looked at his grandson with serious but questioning eyes.

"What have you done?" he asked, already knowing that the crash had been no accident.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me, Grandfather?" Joffrey asked, unable to erase the grin from his face. "I did it. I am, finally, the President of Westeros..."

"I see," Tywin nodded. "Robb Stark will no longer be an obstacle in your way, but in what moment did it occur to you that it was a good idea to kill your wife?"

Joffrey hadn't shared with his grandfather his plans, so of course the man wasn't aware of all the details of those and the way in which Joffrey's twisted mind had decided that things should be done. Joffrey sat on his chair behind his desk again, and with a movement of his hand invited Tywin to do the same in an empty chair in front of the desk. Once Tywin took a seat, Joffrey sighed and answered to his question.

"The whole country is going to go crazy right now. There will be an investigation, talks about stupid conspiracies and terrorist attacks and treason... Hell, even we will be among those that people include in their talks of conspiracies. But with Sansa gone, I can play my part better," he began to explain. "She was an amazing actress, and her lies just got better and better with time. She helped me to portray us as the perfect and happy couple. No one doubted that our marriage was possibly the best one that there had been in a long time. With her sudden death I will be so immensely devastated over the loss of my wife, that no one will even dare to think that I had anything to do with it. She had to die."

"And what will they find when they investigate the accident?" Tywin asked, curious.

"A fault in the engines."

"The jet was property of _Frey Airlines_. The Freys will take the fault if the official reason for the crash is an unseen fault in their plane."

"They will," Joffrey nodded. "Don't worry, Grandfather, I've got everything covered."

"For your own good, I hope so," Tywin muttered. "This accident will give you power, but if anyone finds out about this you are done."

"No one will know," Joffrey said, and suddenly the phone rang.

Both men looked at the phone on the desk. Joffrey's grin became wider; he already knew who the caller was. He looked up at his grandfather, and reached out to pick up the call.

"Sansa was the actress. Now it's my turn to act," he said, and he picked up the phone. He took it to his ear to answer. His expression changed radically all of a sudden, turning from happy to serious. His lip trembled a bit, and when he spoke his voice shook and sounded almost broken, full of sorrow, making him sound as a man broken by terrible news. His eyes, however, continued having that dark glimmer that would provoke even the fiercest of animals to whimper and cringe out of fear of the evil in those green irises.

Tywin Lannister watched undeterred while his grandson spoke to the man in the phone that informed him that he was now the President of Westeros. Joffrey put up his act of devastated husband perfectly, even faking to be trying not to cry. After a few soft fake sobs, Joffrey agree to take the Oath of Office as soon as possible, pretending that it was duty and not his insatiable greed that moved him to do it.

* * *

They weren't far from the airport when Sansa's phone started ringing. She thought it was Sandor at first, but when she went to pick up the call she saw that the called was her brother Bran. She picked it up, wondering why her brother was calling her.

"Hi," she said in a cheerful tone. She was in a great mood, and nothing could spoil it for her. She was finally going home. "Bran?"

" _Aunt Sansa?_ " a soft and boyish voice asked. It was Ned. Sansa smiled when she heard her nephew's voice, and she didn't notice the way in which the boy sounded somewhat scared.

"Ned! Hello, sweetie. How are you?"

" _I-I'm fine... Aunt Sansa, where are you? Are you in the plane?_ "

"No, I'm not in the plane. I'm going to take another one," Sansa said, but she didn't further explain her situation. It was a long story, and she was sure that she could tell it once she was back in Winterfell.

" _You are not in the plane...?"_ Ned asked, and this time Sansa did notice the fear in Ned's voice. Her expression immediately became serious.

"Ned, is everything okay?" she asked, wondering why her nephew was calling and why he was suddenly so scared.

Another phone started ringing in the car. It was Robb's bodyguard's phone, and the man took it out of his pocket and answered the call. Sansa didn't listen to what he said, for she was busy talking to her nephew, who had started sobbing. She was becoming very worried.

"Ned, sweetie, is something wrong?" she asked, feeling a hole appearing in the pit of her stomach. She could sense that something was wrong, but she did not know what it was. Ned continued sobbing at the other side of the line.

" _Are Mom and Dad with you?_ " the boy asked, and Sansa shook her head, even though she knew that Ned couldn't see her.

"No," she answered. "They are in the plane... Ned, is something wrong?" she insisted. She needed to know why her nephew was crying!

" _I went to the living room to watch TV, but it was already on... Uncle Rickon was crying, and uncle Bran told me to get out of there and go to my room. He forbade me to turn on the TV there, he disconnected it and took away the cord.._." Ned explained, and with each new word that he pronounced, the hole in the pit of Sansa's stomach became wider and deeper. The feeling that something was indeed very, very wrong started hurting her entrails. " _I took his phone and called Mom, but her phone wasn't working, and I called Dad, but he didn't pick up... Grandma Cat didn't answer the phone either..._ "

Ned's sobs became louder. He was a very strong boy, but he was still a child, and he was very scared. No one wanted to tell him what was going on, but he wasn't stupid and he knew that something was wrong. He wanted to speak to his parents and know that everything was okay, but he couldn't, and that only scared him even more.

Sansa wanted to tell him that everything was okay, that everything would be fine, but at that moment she didn't know if that would actually be a lie. She didn't know what to say, her mind was almost in blank. Her nephew's words reverberated in between the walls of her mind over and over again, making her worried sick. What had happened? Had there been an accident? Was her family alright?

Suddenly, the good mood that she had thought that nothing and no one would be able to spoil had disappeared in a second, replaced by dread and a growing need to speak with her brother Robb or with her mother and know that they were all right...

 _They have to be all right,_ she thought. _They are on their way to Winterfell, and I am going to meet them there and then we are leaving together somewhere far away and we are going to live in peace and be happy..._ It was all a childish dream, and she knew it. But she had been grazing that dream with the tips of her fingers. She could almost grasp it in her hand, it was so close...

But all her dreams and hopes slipped away through her fingers like smoke as soon as she heard the angry voice of Robb's bodyguard, who had been listening to what someone said to him on his own phone.

"What do you mean, ' _it crashed_ '?!" he almost shouted. "When? How?!"

The word 'crashed' felt as if someone had shot an arrow to Sansa's heart, piercing it through and through. She gasped, feeling a sharp pain in her chest and in her belly, and she almost whimpered. She bit her tongue and managed to stay silent, but she felt hot tears stinging in her eyes.

"Ned, I'll call you soon," she murmured, almost unable to raise her voice enough to be heard. She didn't want to leave him, but she couldn't allow him to listen to her crying.

As soon as she hung up the phone she turned all of her attention to Robb's bodyguard, who still spoke angrily on the phone. Sweat drops rolled down his forehead, and his hands shook. The chauffeur also seemed shocked and nervous by what he was hearing.

"Are there survivors?" the bodyguard asked, and in that moment Sansa did whimper.

 _Oh my God..._ she cried in her mind, realizing what was happening. It was really happening... The plane had crashed. It had crashed, and her family had been inside of it. _Please let them be okay, please..._ she begged. She held on tight to that hope. Maybe a miracle had happened and Robb, her mother and Talisa were fine, perhaps a little beaten, but alive...

The bodyguard cursed and hung up the phone. Sansa wanted to ask if her family was alive, she wanted to know everything. The bodyguard turned his head around to face her, and she didn't even realize the way in which the man's eyes were covered in anger and sorrow, a fact which would have given her the answer that she sook.

"Miss Sansa..." the bodyguard started saying, but she interrupted him.

"Are they alive?" she asked, her voice breaking. She didn't want to listen to the man's answer, but she had to do it. She had to know, and the moments of silence before the bodyguard spoke seemed like a painful eternity of torture.

Slowly, the man shook his head. Somewhere in her mind, Sansa screamed, but her mouth was silent. Even if she had tried to scream, she knew that she wouldn't have been able to do so. She was frozen inside, and the world around her transformed into a dark hole that swallowed everything, leaving her standing in the void. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't speak, she couldn't smell. For long seconds there was nothing else there apart from her and that sharp, insufferable pain in her chest and in her belly.

Slowly, her mind and her senses started working again, and she gasped for air, feeling like she was suffocating.

 _They are dead,_ was the first thought that she had. _They are dead... My mother, my brother, Talisa... They are all dead._

 _Joffrey killed them,_ an ice-cold voice whispered in the back of her head, making her shiver. She held on to the car seat so tightly that her nails buried themselves on the leather, leaving marks on it. _Joffrey murdered them._

She would have screamed then, had she had the strength to do so. The tears of sorrow that streamed down her face transformed into tears of anger.

"Pull over," she said then, barely whispering.

"What?" the bodyguard asked, not having heard her.

"Pull over!" Sansa exclaimed that time, almost shouting. She felt hysterical, and although she did the best she could to control herself she felt unable to contain the explosion of emotions that she felt within herself for much longer.

The chauffeur did as she said, and nice the car stopped at the side of the road Sansa shouted at the two men again.

" _Get out!_ " she yelled at them. She didn't want to yell, she never yelled at anyone. She had always been the perfect and proper little lady, she kept her emotions to herself and was always polite. But not now. She wasn't angry at the two men, but she was angry at the whole world, and she was in no condition of holding back. " _ **Get out!"**_

"But Miss Stark!" the bodyguard protested, horrified by the thought of leaving her alone after what had just happened. "We have to take you somewhere safe!"

" _Nowhere is safe, fool!_ " she almost screamed. They were all fools. Joffrey had killed her family, and nowhere was safe from him. She had to leave. "Get out, both of you! **_Now!"_**

Reluctantly, the bodyguard and the chauffeur obeyed and got out of the car. After they closed the doors behind them Sansa climbed from the backseat to the driver's seat. The keys were still there, so she immediately started the engine and after making sure that the way was clear, she furiously turned the steering wheel and made an U-turn in the road, speeding away from there, away from King's Landing. Had she looked at the rear view mirror she would have seen that the bodyguard and the chauffeur had tried to run after the car, desperately calling her name to make her stop, but she didn't. She could only focus on the road in front of her, and the hot tears in her eyes made it difficult for her to see and focus on the cars around her that she had to dodge. Several of them honked angrily when she passed by at a great speed, but she ignored them. She had to get out of there as fast as possible...

The sound of her sobs filled the car then. It took her several moments to realize that she was crying, but when she did it only served to make her cry more.

Joffrey had done it. He had killed her family. Sansa wanted to hit herself for being so stupid, for believing even for a second that she was getting away from him. Joffrey had threatened her with killing her family should she ever say anything to her family, and he had stayed true to his word. Sansa should have known...

And then she realized that Joffrey had tried to kill her too. She should have been in that plane. She should have been just as dead as her mother and brother were, but she wasn't.

 _Because I left,_ she thought bitterly. _I got off the plane and I left them alone to die._

With that in mind, Sansa finally screamed.

* * *

Sandor was getting nervous. Sansa should have arrived in the airport a long time ago, but she was nowhere to be found. Sandor looked at his phone while the fingers of his other hand tapped repeatedly on the steering wheel. He was waiting inside the car right in front of the gates of the airport, growing more impatient with each passing second. Where was she? They should leave soon and get away from that hell of a city as soon as they could!

He tried not to look at his phone again, but it was difficult. He wanted to call Sansa and ask her where she was, but he had already spoken to her and she had told him that she was on her way there, so he didn't want to attack her with the same question over and over and stress her out.

He decided to keep waiting as patiently as he could, though it was proving to be extremely difficult. His palms were sweaty, and he had to let go of the phone before it because soaked. He dried his palms on his jeans and looked outside the tinted window, watching the people that went inside the airport and left it with lots of bags. There were people going on vacations, people going on business trips, people traveling without luggage, people traveling with their entire house in bags... It was funny to see them coming and going, every single one with their different story. Soon Sandor would only be one more of them, getting inside a plane with the woman he loved to go somewhere far.

There was a woman standing next to the car. She was checking her phone distractedly, probably waiting for someone to come and pick her up there. Sandor paid no mind to her and looked at his own phone again until he suddenly heard her gasp. He raised his head in time to see her taking a step back. Her expression, which had been neutral and bored before, was now horrified. She gaped at the screen of her phone.

"They President's plane has crashed!" she cried then, announcing the news to the people around her.

There were more gasps and cries of horror around her, all of which reached Sandor's ears, but he wasn't listening anymore. The woman's words resonated in his mind, and he immediately knew what they meant without necessity of asking what had been the outcome of that crash.

"Fuck!" he barked, furious.

Sandor quickly dialed Sansa's number. He knew that she was alright, for she had told him that she had gotten off the plane and was heading to the airport, but he didn't know if she knew what had happened. He needed to know that she was okay.

Well, of course she wasn't going to be okay, but he needed to hear her voice and know where she was so that he could go with her as soon as possible. The phone rang and rang and for a moment Sandor thought that Sansa wasn't going to pick up. He was about to hung up and call again when suddenly he heard that someone answered the call. There was silence at first, but he could hear Sansa's quick breathing and desperate sobs. He cursed under his breath; she had already found out about the crash.

"Sansa?" he ventured hesitantly when she didn't say anything.

" _Sandor..."_ she whispered with a broken voice.

That pitiful sound made felt like a punch in the gut to Sandor; of all the times in which he had heard Sansa cry, none compared to how she sounded a the moment. He wanted to say something, but what could he say? How could he console her? Anything that he said would be a lie. Nothing would be okay, not now. Were they safe? He didn't know either, so he couldn't promise her that. Sandor closed his free hand into a fist and held back the urge to punch the steering wheel in front of him. Why, gods, why did everything have to go so wrong?! Why couldn't any of their plans go right, why did the little bird have to suffer so much?! It wasn't fair. Sandor had always known that the world wasn't fucking fair, but that was too much. It was too much...

"Where are you?" he finally asked. He didn't mention the crash, he didn't ask if she was okay. They could talk about everything later, but his priority at the moment was to get to Sansa. He guessed she wasn't going to the airport anymore, and he was right.

" _I-in the Kingsroad highway.._." she replied.

"What are you doing in the Kingsroad highway?" Sandor asked, though he didn't waste any time before putting on his seatbelt and pulling out of the parking place in front of the airport. He drove towards the road that would take him in the direction of the highway.

" _I need to get away..._ " Sansa replied, and the desperation and fear in her voice was hard to ignore. But if course she was afraid! She could- should- have died in the plane crash. She had saved herself by pure chance, and when Sandor thought about it he almost growled full of fury. Had he insisted more to Sansa to stay in the jet with her family, at that moment he would have been the one mourning her death. He could not bear that thought. " _I killed them, Sandor..."_

"What?" he asked, confused. "What do you mean? Who?"

" _Mom... Robb... Talisa..._ " Sansa sobbed. " _I killed them... I told them about Joffrey, and then he killed them. It's my fault, Sandor, it's all my fault!_ " with every word that she said her sobs became louder, her cries more sorrowful and desperate. " _I should be dead, but I left them to die alone_!"

Fuck no. Sandor was not about to let Sansa believe such a thing. She had nothing to do in what had happened, none of it was her fault. She had gone to her family and told them the truth, yes, but he had been the one that forced her to do it. But what was he to do if not? Stand aside while Joffrey beat her mercilessly? He had done that enough already, and that situation couldn't go on any longer.

The only was that was at fault for the death of the Starks was Joffrey. He was a power-hungry psychopath that would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and Sandor felt stupid for not having imagined before that something like that was going to happen. It should have been fucking obvious to him!

"It's not your fault," he rasped, grasping the phone tightly and holding it against his ear while he drove as fast as he could. "It's Joffrey's fault. He's the only one guilty, you hear me?"

Sansa didn't say anything. Sandor sighed, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

"Sansa, I'm heading towards the road. I'm going to go with you, where are you going to be?"

" _I don't know. I don't want to stop driving..._ " she answered, and Sandor guessed that she must be terrified, thinking that she would get caught if she stopped somewhere.

He asked Sansa to describe to him the car in which she was. After she did so and Sandor had a mental image of the car, he told her to keep driving and he would be behind her. He asked Sansa to call him if she decided to stop at some point, and she agreed.

"It's all going to be all right, Sansa" Sandor said before hanging up the cell phone. He had been reluctant to say those words before, but he felt like he needed to say them and so he did. He hoped he wasn't lying to Sansa by promising her such a thing.

* * *

Joffrey tried not to smile while he put his left hand on the Bible that his uncle Tyrion held in front of him, and he rose his right hand in the air at his side. He was standing in the middle of the grand parlor of the Red Keep mansion, where he had been summoned to, surrounded by senators and other politicians. His uncle Tyrion had been selected as the judge that would administer the Oath of Office to Joffrey, and the rest of his family was watching him from a few feet away.

While on the car on the way there Joffrey had prepared to look exactly like the heart-broken and grieving husband that everyone expected him to be. He wasn't going to cry in front of those people, of course, he was supposed to be strong to demonstrate that he was going to be a strong President, but he did appear in the Red Keep mansion with swollen and red eyes, a trembling lip and trembling hands, and from time to time he fake that it was difficult to speak or even to take a breath. His act was perfect, and all the senators looked at him with deep pity when he appeared in front of them. They gave him his condolences, which he thanked politely. He took care of making it look like he was about to shed a year or two, but then he took a deep breath.

" _Duty comes first,_ " he had said then, and all the men had admired his strength. It almost made him start laughing at the too of his lungs right then and there.

At that moment, with his left hand on the Bible and the right one in the air, he proceeded to take the Oath of Office. The deep breath that he took then to calm down was genuine. His pulse was fast in his veins, and he felt an explosion of satisfaction inside of him. He had made it. He had gotten what he wanted.

"I swear in exercising the powers of the President of Westeros to respect and safeguard the rights and freedoms of man and citizen, to observe and protect the Constitution of Westeros, to protect the sovereignty and independence, security and integrity of the State, to faithfully serve the people."*

That was it. He was officially the new President of Westeros.

Had he been able to do it, he would have grinned, but his expression remained serious and sad. He still had to keep up his little act, and so he remained with the same expression while he shook hands with the men around him politely and he thanked their words of support and their greetings to their new President. When he shook his grandfather's hand, the man grasped his hand tightly.

"Congratulations, Mr President," Governor Tywin said, and only then did Joffrey finally show his true face, allowing the grin to emerge to his face for a split second in which no one was looking.

"Thank you, grandfather," he said.

 _I told you nothing could stop me,_ his narrowed green eyes said.

His moment of satisfaction was brief. His secretary suddenly appeared at his side, holding a phone in his hand. Joffrey frowned when he saw the man, not understanding why he had such a huge smile on his face, nor why his eyes shone with relief.

"What's going on?" Joffrey asked, knowing that something that provoked someone to smile so much couldn't be good news for him.

"It's your wife, Mr President!" his secretary exclaimed enthusiastically, and Joffrey frowned even more. Sansa? Sansa was dead. "She is alive!"

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Joffrey yelled, completely losing his composure. He forgot about his sad act and his expression became furious in an instant. Everyone in the room turned to face him with curiosity, wondering what had provoked such a reaction in him. Joffrey realized his mistake, and made an effort to change his enraged expression to one of disbelief and amazement and hope. "I mean... _what?"_

_How on Earth did she survive that crash?!_

"The firefighters didn't find her body, and we have just been informed that she wasn't in the jet!"

"She wasn't in the jet?" Joffrey asked, feeling more disbelief and anger inside of him with each passing second.

"No, Mr President, she never boarded it. Well, she did, but she left!"

Sansa had left the jet... Joffrey couldn't believe it. He clenched his jaw but made a very big effort to relax, specially after he realized that everyone around him was smiling and some were laughing, and many were thanking God for that miracle and exclaiming happily became their new First Lady was alive and well.

 _Goddammit, Sansa, couldn't you do that one thing?!_ Joffrey yelled in his mind while his expression fooled everyone again and showed fake relief and happiness. _Did you really have to spoil everything again?!_

"Excuse me, I..." he murmured. "I need a moment..."

He left the room and walked alone to his old office in the Red Keep mansion, the office that had been his father's office years ago and Robb Stark's office until hours ago and was now Joffrey's again. When he stepped inside the office he went to close the door, but found that his grandfather had been following him. Joffrey let Tywin Lannister inside the office and slammed the door shut after him.

"You have a problem," Tywin murmured gravely once he was standing in the centre of the office. His piercing glare was extremely severe, and demanded an explanation from his grandson for that mess.

"I know," Joffrey hissed, infuriated. He didn't hide his anger now that he was only in the presence of his grandfather. He was choleric. " _Where is she?!_ "

"I don't know. They say that she has been seen in the Kingsroad highway," Tywin informed him of what he had heard the secretary say after Joffrey left the parlor.

"She is running away," Joffrey realized. " _That fucking cunt!_ She was supposed to die!"

"Well, she didn't," Tywin stated the obvious, his voice still as severe as before. "Find her before someone else does and she decides to tell them everything."

"She doesn't know that I caused the accident!" Joffrey hissed.

"Then why is she running away?" Tywin asked him. "And she might not know of your role in the plane crash, but she does know about her father and Theon Greyjoy. She might try to get help and confess your crimes now that she had nothing to lose."

"She does have something to lose," Joffrey hissed, nodding slightly with his head. "She has three brothers left and a nephew left in the North. She won't risk their lives, she had already seen what happens to those who defy me..."

"Still, you have to find her and control her," Tywin warned him. "The fact that she left the jet and is now on the road to get away from here is already calling enough attention, you need to stop her."

"I will. I'll send everyone after her," Joffrey said, picking up the phone to make some calls. " _That bitch is going to know who I am..._ "

While Joffrey made those calls, Tywin made some calls as well. They had to find the Stark girl, and the sooner the better.

* * *

That fucking prick Joffrey had called him hours ago to order him to find Sansa. What the new President of Westeros didn't know was that Sandor was already on the Kingsroad highway trying to find Sansa, but to take run with her away from that hell of a place. He had been driving for many, many hours, until night fell and he realized that he was already far inside the State of the Vale. Sandor hadn't reached Sansa yet, but he knew that he must have been getting close unless the girl was driving at a great speed. She hadn't called him yet, which meant that she was still driving.

Sandor felt tired. His back ached, his hands hurt, his legs were numb and his eyelids were heavy, but he couldn't pull over anywhere to rest a little bit. That would only mean that Sansa would get even farther away, and it would take him many more hours to find her. Besides, if Joffrey had called him to find her then that obviously meant that the man already knew that Sansa was alive, and that wasn't good. Sandor and Sansa had been playing with the advantage that Joffrey thought her dead and wouldn't be looking for her, but now that that advantage was gone they had to hurry more in order to make it out of there.

"Come on, Sansa, where are you...?" Sandor murmured for himself while he looked at the empty road in front of him.

A black SUV suddenly appeared beside him on the road. Sandor paid no attention as the huge black car passed him and sped away, disappearing into the darkness and the distance. Sandor thought that the car looked familiar, but he thought no more about it; he had seen way too many black SUVs.

He continued driving. The was a big curve ahead, and once he passed it and the road straightened in front of him ahead he saw, thanks to the headlights, that there were two cars driving in front of him. One of the was the SUV, and in front of that one was the car that Sansa had described to him. Sandor felt a big wave of relief washing through him.

 _Finally,_ he thought. It had taken him hours, but he had finally found Sansa.

Sansa was indeed driving at a great speed, quickly making more distance appear between her and Sandor, probably not realizing that he was the one in the car.

However, he frowned when he saw that the black SUV was also speeding, which didn't make sense. He saw the SUV shortening the distance with Sansa's car, and Sandor wondered what the fuck was going on. If he was in such a hurry, the black SUV had more than enough space in the highway to pass Sansa's car and drive away, but instead it kept driving right behind her.

His phone started ringing then, and he picked it up after seeing that it was Sansa.

"Sansa," he said before she could even speak. "I'm here, I'm behind you."

" _You are in the black SUV?_ " she asked, sounding relieved, but he shook his head.

"No, I'm in the other car, the one behind the SUV? What is that prick doing anyway? If he gets closer to you he's going to hit you."

Sansa changes lanes then, and Sandor thought that then the black SUV would go on with his way and pass Sansa, but he was taken aback when he saw that the black SUV changes lanes as well and continued following Sansa.

"What the fuck?" Sandor rasped.

" _What is he doing?!_ " Sansa exclaimed on the phone. She sounded scared, and Sandor didn't blame him.

Sandor cursed between gritted teeth then, realizing what had happened. Joffrey had sent more people after Sansa, and whoever it was, he had found her.

"Sansa, drive as fast as you can," Sandor told her. He put the phone in speaker and left it on the passenger's seat, and then he opened the small compartment in front of it and took out his gun from there. He left it also on the passenger's seat, ready to grab it and use it should he need to.

He heard a loud noise coming from the phone then, and he also heard Sansa gasping and cursing.

" _He hit me!_ " she exclaimed. " _The SUV just hit me!"_

Sandor heard the loud noise again, and that time he was also able to see how the black SUV hit the back of Sansa's car. Then the black car changed lanes again and increased the speed to pass Sansa's car. When he was several feet away from her he suddenly turned to the side, blocking Sansa's path. She screamed and slammed her foot on the brakes, violently stopping the car. She managed not to crash against the SUV that had stopped in front of her, but the tires of her car made an awful screeching noise. Sandor cursed and stopped as well, avoiding crashing against the back of Sansa's car.

"Sansa, are you okay?" he asked to the phone while he picked up the gun and got rid of his seatbelt.

" _Y-yes..."_

Sandor was in the process of opening the door of the car and getting out when he realized that the driver of the black SUV had already done that and was walking towards Sansa's car, holding a gun in the air. Sandor became pale, and he knew then why the SUV had been so familiar.

It was Gregor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I copied the Oath of Office from the one the President of Russia has to say, only changing the name of the country for Westeros. I chose that Oath in particular because I thought it would be the most hypocrite one coming out of Joffrey's mouth.


	45. A Life To Heal The Broken Heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing this story for a year already! Yay! To celebrate that, here you have a chapter that I wrote while I was in the beach.
> 
> Please, if you see autocorrect mistakes, do tell me and I will fix them immediately :)
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song "So Far Away" by Avenged Sevenfold.

Gregor approached Sansa's car, gun in hand. Sandor froze inside his own car for a few seconds after he saw his brother emerging from the black SUV that had almost made Sansa crash, but his first reaction was quickly replaced by rage when he saw his brother there, silently threatening Sansa with the gun.

"Don't get out of the car, Sansa," he said to her through the phone that he had left in speaker mode on the passenger seat. He got no reply, so he didn't know of Sansa was still there of if the call had ended.

Sandor grasped his own gun tightly in his hand before quickly opening the door of the car. He was about to get out to the road to face Gregor when suddenly his brother turned his attention away from Sansa's car for a second and shifted if towards Sandor's car, and then he pulled the trigger and fired a shot. The bullet hit the bullet-proof window of the car, but it made Sandor quickly close the door again.

"Fuck!" he shouted. His brother had just tried to shoot him!

He heard a scream coming from the phone, so the call was still going on.

"Sansa, stay in the car!" Sandor shouted. "Turn around and drive away!"

As if his brother had read his mind, Gregor pointed the gun at the tires of Sansa's car and shot them, opening big holes in them. Sansa screamed again, scared by the shots. Sandor cursed and accidentally dropped the gun. He reached down with his arm and searched the floor of the car, trying to find the weapon again. When his finger's touched the cold metal of the gun he quickly grabbed it, and he didn't think it twice before opening the door again and getting out of the vehicle.

Sandor had every intention of shooting and killing his brother right then and there. He didn't care if he was accused of murder or any other bullshit, he intended to be well away from there soon, where they couldn't find him. But if he had to make that small sacrifice and go to jail in order to save Sansa he would do it.

He put his finger on the trigger and pointed the gun at Gregor, but he found much to his dismay that he had been too slow, and his brother too fast. Gregor was pointing the gun at him again, ready to shoot. He was next to Sansa's car already, and while his eyes glared at his younger brother, his free hand brusquely opened the door of the vehicle and immediately pulled Sansa out from inside it. Sansa screamed, scared, and Gregor forced her to stand in from of him. Sandor could have still shot him, because Gregor's extreme height made it an easy target behind Sansa's small body. However, Sandor couldn't shoot; he froze when he saw that Gregor had pressed the gun against Sansa's temple.

" _ **No!"**_ he yelled, panicked, unable to stop himself. His brother's grin did not escape his notice, making him even more furious and scared than before. Gregor was the only one capable of making Sandor feel terrified, and at that moment that monster had in his power what Sandor loved most in the entire world.

"Put the gun down, or I shoot her!" Gregor told him, still holding the gun against Sansa's head. "Put it down!"

His heart beat furiously, almost to the point in which it was painful. He couldn't take his eyes off Sansa, who was whimpering scared in front of his brother. Gregor's gigantic size made Sansa look so small and fragile, almost like a child. And he was going to hurt her...

"Let her go, Gregor!" Sandor barked, seeing red. How dared his brother do that to Sansa? How dared he?!

"I have orders, little brother."

"To kill her?"

"To take her home," Gregor said. They were such simple words, and yet they had such a dark meaning. They were twisted words, poisoned... That was what Sansa had wanted all along that day, to go home, but the home that she was being taken to was everything but home. "Put. The gun. Down. Put it down, Sandor, or I swear your lady love's brains will decorate the road before you can even pull the trigger."

Sandor was a great fighter, and an excellent shooter. His brother was even better. He had a combination of brute force and a natural gift for violence that made him one of the deadliest and most dangerous men that Sandor had even known, and at that moment Sansa's life was at risk. If he did not do what his brother told him to do, he knew that it would be very likely that his brother made his threat come true.

"You can't kill here," Sandor said, though a voice in the back of his head told him that he shouldn't be doing that. He really did not want to find out the hard way that his brother wasn't bluffing. "She's the First Lady now."

Gregor snorted. "Half the Stark family died today, Joffrey won't give a guck that another one does. Now put the gun down, Sandor. Now!"

Hating himself for doing so, Sandor slowly put the gun down on the road.

"Now kick it over here."

Sandor obeyed again, and then he waited anxiously for his brother to let Sansa go. Gregor put his foot over Sandor's gun to make sure that no one would take it, but he did not let go of Sansa. The man watched Sandor, trying to see if he was up to anything, but once Gregor saw that Sandor was standing there defenseless and just waiting for Sansa to be safe again, he finally let go of the young woman.

"Go to the car," he ordered her, pushing her towards the SUV. Sansa whimpered, but she did as she was told. She opened the door of the vehicle with trembling hands and sat on the backseat. Now Gregor's gun was pointed at Sandor's head. Sandor thought that his brother was going to shoot him, but Gregor only spoke. "You too."

Sandor nodded, but before obeyed he took a moment to retrieve his phone from his car, and the car keys as well. Then he walked over to the black SUV, feeling more defeated than he had ever felt in his hole life.

"I am so sorry, Sansa..." he murmured, really meaning it, after he entered the vehicle and sat on the backseat next to Sansa. She was looking out the window, and her face was damp with fresh tears. She slowly shook her head.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. Sandor did not know if she meant it or not.

It was painful, seeing Sansa like that. She had lost everything in a matter of hours. Her mother and her brother were dead, and she could not get rid of the guilt that she felt in her heart for their deaths. Her only chance to escape and go home had turned to smoked that slipped through her fingers. She had nothing left now, not even hope, and Sandor seriously doubted that his presence would be enough that time to console her. He hadn't even been able to defend her!

 _What a fucking mess,_ he thought bitterly, hating himself and feeling stupid and cowardly and useless.

Gregor opened the car door behind him then. Before Sandor could turn around to face his brother, Gregor spoke.

"Just so that you don't try anything stupid," he heard his older brother say behind him, and then something hard hit him in the back of his head with monstrous strength.

Sandor fell face-down on the backseat, and the last thing he heard was Sansa's horrified gasp before everything went black and he lost consciousness.

* * *

When Sandor came back to his senses, many hours had passed and they had already left behind the States of the Vale and the Riverlands and were driving through the State of Crownlands in direction to King's Landing. Sandor started hearing things before he opened his eyes, like the sound of the car quickly driving on the road and the sound of passing cars that drove in the opposite direction on the highway.

Sandor opened his eyes and blinked several times. He hissed when he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, right where Gregor had hit him with the gun to knock him out. Sandor took his hand to the back of his head and touched the place where it hurt, finding some dry blood there. He cursed under his breath and then he sat up on the backseat of the car, groaning as he did so. He felt his head spinning.

Sandor noticed then that Sansa's hand was holding his other hand tightly. He wondered if she had been holding him the whole time while he was unconscious, and part of him felt angry that he had been knocked out so easily and that Sansa had been forced to spend hours alone in the car with Gregor, being forced to go back to King's Landing, terrified and desperate.

Sansa didn't look at him when he say up in the backseat. Her head was resting on the window of the car, and she had her eyes closed. Sandor wondered if she was asleep, but he frowned when he noticed how tightly she was holding on to his hand. Her grasp was so right that her fingernails buried themselves in his skin in an almost painful way, but Sandor did not protest. However, he did frown more when he saw that Sansa's face was twisted into a painful expression. Sandor lowered his gaze and saw that Sansa's other hand was on her belly, and then he heard her whimper in pain. He became immediately worried.

"Sansa?" he called her name, trying to get her attention. She didn't open her eyes. "Sansa, what's wrong?"

"It h-hurts..." she answered then. Her voice was very weak. She whimpered again, this time louder, and Sandor saw tears of pain streaming down her face.

" _What have you done to her?!_ " Sandor yelled, looking at Gregor through the rear-view mirror. His brother continued driving, undeterred by Sansa's whimpers. "What have you done?!"

"I didn't do anything," Gregor grunted, annoyed. "She has been doing that for five minutes."

"Sansa, what's wrong?" Sandor asked her again, feeling desperate. Sansa shook her head, not knowing what it was. "Wait, come here with me."

He gently took her to move her towards where he was with the full intention of holding her in his arms and try to soothe her a little bit. As soon as Sansa moved away from where she had been sitting, Sandor saw what was part of the problem.

"Sansa, you are bleeding," he rasped, watching the red stains on the clear leather backseat. He looked down at Sansa then. She was wearing a blue dress; the skirt had slid up a little bit when Sansa moved, revealing more of her legs. There was blood there too, not a lot lot, but it was blood nonetheless. "You are bleeding," he repeated, this time scared. Why was she bleeding?!

"Women bleed," he heard Gregor muttering from the driver's seat. "If that bitch stains the car she will be sorry, little brother."

" _Shut the fuck up, Gregor!_ " Sandor yelled at his brother, and the he held Sansa's face between his hands and made her look at him. She looked paler than usual, and weak... "Sansa, are you okay? Is it your...? You know."

Unbelievable. He was a grown-ass man, capable of saying all kinds of obscenities, a fighter that had seen all kids of things that would make anyone else be sick and still he hadn't even flinched, and still he wasn't capable of saying a thing so normal and simple as 'period'. Sansa understood what he had tried to say. To his dismay, she shook her head.

"No..." she said, again barely whispering. She whimpered again, and sought Sandor's hand to grasp it again.

"Gregor, drive to the hospital," Sandor ordered his brother.

Gregor grunted. "You don't give me orders, pup."

Sandor had no time to argue. Sansa was bleeding, no one knew what was wrong but something was wrong, and he was desperate. He was filled with a panic inside that he had almost never felt. Was he loosing Sansa? He did not wen want to think about it.

" _Drive to the fucking hospital, Gregor!_ " Sandor almost screamed. "Do you want the wife of the President to die in your car and have the whole world know that you did nothing?!"

There were a few seconds of heavy silence, in which Sandor thought that Gregor would not listen to him and he would keep driving on the highway. However, much to his relief, Gregor ended up grunting annoyed and he took the nearest exit from the highway that led to one of the cities nearby. There were lucky and the nearest city, Sow's Horn, was only ten minutes away. Gregor had already been in that city before, so he was able to drive to the hospital directly. Sandor was ready to jump out of the car as soon as it stopped in front of the hospital.

"You are going to be okay, Sansa," he promised her. Sansa had closed her eyes and was resting her head on his chest; Sandor did not know if she was awake anymore.

It wasn't long until Gregor finished driving through the almost empty streets of Sow's Horn at those late hours at night, and pull over in front of the Emergencies entrance of the hospital. Sandor immediately opened the car door next to him and jumped out of the vehicle. He held Sansa in his arms and took her out of the car, and was horrified when he saw that she had bled more. It still wasn't a lot of blood, but if it was making Sansa feel pain and she was not supposed to be bleeding then it did worry him. He didn't wait for Gregor to get out of the car and he ran towards the gates of the hospital, which had opened and two paramedics and a nurse had come out with stretcher. They ran to meet with Sandor, having seen that he was holding a now clearly unconscious Sansa in his arms.

"Help her!" he begged them. He never begged... "She is bleeding, and I don't know what is wrong with her."

If they recognized who the young woman was, none of them said a thing. They took Sansa from Sandor's arms and out her in the stretcher, and then they carried her away from inside and inside the emergency department.

Sandor entered the building behind them. He fell exhausted, and for a moment he thought that he would crumble down to the floor. His head was hurting again, and even though he did not want to focus on his own pain and instead he wanted to make sure that Sansa was all right he couldn't get rid of the spinning sensation that his head was giving him. A nurse that was nearby noticed him, and saw the dry blood in the back of his head.

"Sir, sit down," he heard the nurse saying. Her voice sounded distant, but he heard her nonetheless. He thought that the woman had a gentle voice, but at the same time it was strong and imposing. He thought, for some unknown reason, that that was curious. "Let me take care of that."

"I'm fine..." he protested. He wanted to know where they had taken Sansa.

"Sir, sit down," the nurse insisted. She took his arm and made him go towards a chair and sit down on it. Sandor was not emotionally strong enough that night to keep protesting, and he say down on the chair that the nurse had led him to. He felt her examining his wound. "It doesn't need stitches. Let me clean it."

She went to fetch the necessary material to clean the wound on Sandor's head. He didn't look at the woman, but from the corner of his eye he noticed that she was really tall. While he waited he stared down the corridor where Sansa had been taken away in the stretcher, and he heard the distant sound of Gregor's voice near the exit of the emergency department; it appeared as if the man was making a phone call.

 _He's probably calling the a Lannisters to say where we are,_ he thought bitterly, feeling the hate towards everybody and towards himself return to him immediately.

The nurse came back, and this time Sandor did look at her. She was indeed very tall, taller than Sansa, but shorter than Sandor. She had her black hair in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a horrible green nurse uniform. She kneeled in front of Sandor to be at the same level as him, and that was when he saw her eyes. He gasped, startling the nurse.

The woman- she was young, being around her early thirties- looked at Sandor, surprised by his unexpected reaction upon seeing her. The look on her big and deep grey eyes becomes concerned when he saw the shock in Sandor's expression.

"Sir?" she asked. He thought that maybe she had a bit of a foreign accent, though he couldn't really identify it. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't answer her question. He hadn't even heard her asking it.

"Mom?" he asked weakly, startling the woman even more.

That woman was the living image of his mother, with the same black hair and the same deep grey eyes, identical to Sandor's eyes. Both he and his brother had taken after their mother, although their size was that of the Cleganes, as were they manly and strong factions. Their mother hadn't exactly been delicate, but her factions had been feminine and graceful, just like that woman was...

"Excuse me?" the nurse said then, and Sandor shook his head.

 _Don't be stupid!_ he scolded himself. The woman did look strikingly like his mother had, but his mother had been older than that woman, and smaller in size. Besides, his mother was dead. She had been dead for twenty-seven years already.

Suddenly he felt extremely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he excused himself, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the woman's gaze on him. "It's just... You look like my mother, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," the nurse said softly, understanding.

Sandor opened his eyes and looked at her, seeing those deep grey eyes again. She was looking at him with pity, but Sandor didn't hate it like he hated it in other occasions when people looked at him like that. He didn't fail to notice that the nurse didn't seem to be scared or disgusted by his burns, she didn't even seem to notice them. Of course, being a nurse, she must have seen all kinds of horrible wounds and burns like those, or even worse.

Sandor lowered his gaze a second to look at the woman's name tag: _Michele Leblanc._

 _So she's French_ , he thought, realizing that that was why she had an accent.

The nurse, Michele, showed him the gauze and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide that she had in her hands.

"May I?" she asked then, asking him for permission to clean his wound.

Slowly, Sandor nodded. He turned his head to the side to expose the wound to Michele. The nurse took a brief look at it and then soaked the gauze with the hydrogen peroxide and proceeded to clean his wound. Once the dry blood was washed away and Michele started cleaning the cup on Sandor's scalp, he hissed slightly because of the stinging that the hydrogen peroxide provoked him. Other than that he remained silent.

"What is your name?" Michele asked after what looked like slight hesitation. Sandor normally didn't like when people asked him questions, but for some reason he didn't mind it that time.

"Sandor Clegane," he replied.

He felt the nurse tensing a bit after he revealed his full name to her. The reason was curious, and it made Sandor start thinking. Did the woman recognize the name? Did she know who he was? Was she who he thought that she was, even though he knew that such a thought was ridiculous?

 _It can't be her,_ he thought to himself. _Can she? Is she? I can't ask her... What if she is and she doesn't know?_

His mind was a mess. Too many fucking things had already happened that day, and the last thing he needed was a discovery like that one. His head started hurting and spinning again.

"Are you with the woman that just arrived?" the woman asked then while she finished cleaning his wound. He nodded.

"I'm her bodyguard," he told her, and she just said 'oh', not knowing what else to say.

She finished cleaning the wound then. It wasn't deep and it wasn't bleeding anymore, so she didn't put anything on it to cover it up. She was standing back up again when Gregor appeared. His gigantic size made everything and everyone around him to look tiny, and it earned amazed glances from doctors and nurses that were around there. Michele looked at him with both a mix of amazement and horror when he walked towards were Sandor was sitting down. At first Gregor didn't notice the woman, but once he did he did a double take to look at her again, frowning just like Sandor had done before when he had seen her.  
Sandor could see in his brother's eyes that he was thinking exactly what he had thought before upon seeing the woman's grey eyes and the way she looked, and it made him feel afraid.

 _Get away from here,_ he wanted to tell the woman, Michele. _Walk away and don't speak to him. Don't even look at him._

As if she had read his thoughts, Michele turned around and disappeared down the corridor. She appeared to be somewhat distressed, but Sandor dismissed the thought. Both he and Gregor stared at Michele until she disappeared around a corner, and then both brothers looked at each other. Sandor was relieved when Gregor didn't mention the nurse.

"Our bosses are coming," Gregor told him. Sandor couldn't do much more other than to slightly nod his head.

If Sansa got better before Joffrey and Tywin Lannister appeared in the hospital in that city that was no farther away from King's Landing than half an hour in helicopter, then he would take her and leave the hospital with her. He would make sure that they could not be traced anymore, and he would try to take her away again. But he was not going to do that before the doctor's told him that she was okay; he would not risk her life.

There was no luck, and by the time the President of Westeros and the Governor of the Westernlands, accompanied by Cersei Lannister and an army of bodyguards appeared in the hospital, the doctors were still with Sansa and Sandor had no news of her.

Sandor felt enraged when he saw Joffrey storming through the emergency department, pretending to be extremely worried for his wife. Sandor clenched his jaw; it had only been a little over television hours since Joffrey had mercilessly murdered the Starks, and he was already coming to snatch Sansa away and force her into a life of misery all over again.

He stood up, feeling that he could beat the new President to death before he got his hands on Sansa. He was making his way over towards Joffrey...

"Where is she?!" Joffrey asked, perfectly pretending to be extremely worried. "Where is my wife?!"

"My brother and I found her at the same time," Sandor heard Gregor saying. "She started bleeding..."

"Bleeding?!" Joffrey asked, genuinely confused. "What on Earth happened?!"

Sandor was around to reach him and was preparing to snap when suddenly the doctor arrived with need of Sansa, making his killing urges fade away and be replaced by worry and the desire to know if she was all right. The doctor didn't appear to be serious, so that was good news... Wasn't it?

"Mr President," the doctor said, walking over towards were Joffrey was and shaking his hand. "Your wife is perfectly fine and had a small hemorrhage, but it is nothing to worry about. This has been a very tragic day for her, so it comes to no surprise that something like this happened. My condolences, by the way," he said, saddened by the thought of Robb Stark's and his family's sudden and tragic death.

"Thank you," Joffrey said with a nod of his head. Then he frowned. "Then Sansa is fine? There is nothing wrong with her?"

The doctor shook his head and smiled a little bit.

"As I said, she is perfectly healthy. Both of them are safe and fine."

Upon hearing those words, not only Joffrey frowned. Tywin, Cersei and Sandor also heard then and frowned, feeling confused by what the doctor had said. Both of them? Sansa and who else?

" _Both?"_ Cersei Lannister asked, voicing the question that everyone had in their minds. The doctor realized then that he knew something that none of them did, and he smiled again.

"Yes, both. The First Lady is pregnant."


	46. Nowhere Left To Run.

Pregnant. Sansa was pregnant.

As soon as the doctor gave the news, silence followed his words. Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei stared at the doctor still as statues, not knowing how to react. Eventually, each one of them showed signs that they had finally processed the information in their heads and were reacting. Tywin Lannister raised his eyebrows, surprise evident all over his factions. Cersei Lannister gaped; she was indignant, but whoever looked at her would mistake her reaction for that of surprise and shock. The doctor smiled again, believing himself to be the deliverer of good news and misinterpreting the shocked expressions of the people in front of him.

Everyone looked at the President then. All color had drained from Joffrey's face, making him look paler than a ghost. His eyes were wide, and disbelief was written all over his face. Just for a brief second it looked as if he believed that some kind of miracle had occurred. He gaped and tried to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. He coughed lightly and looked at his mother and his grandfather. As soon as he looked at them though, his little bubble bursted, making the thought that he had had for a second that maybe a miracle had happened disappear. When he saw the look on his mother's and grandfather's faces he realized the truth, he was reminded of the reality. And then he truly realized what the doctor's words meant, and all the color returned to his face immediately, making him become red with rage.

Pregnant. His wife was pregnant, and he couldn't have children...

Joffrey closed his hands into furious fists, but he quickly realized that his attitude was going to be suspicious and he relaxed. He cleared his throat and softened the expression on his face before looking at the doctor again.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, as if he wanted to know that he hadn't heard wrong.

The doctor nodded.

"Yes, she is pregnant. She is three months along."

" _Three m-!_ " Joffrey almost yelled, but he shut himself up by putting his hand on his mouth. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He stared at the ceiling, and then he stared at the floor, and he began laughing. It was a cold, low, harsh, dark laugh. From where he was, Sandor could see the wrath in his eyes. "Three months... _And she didn't know?"_

"Apparently not," the doctor said, shaking his head. "Sometimes women are pregnant and they don't know, which was the case of Mrs Baratheon. It has been quite the surprise for her as well. Now, Mr President, your wife needs a lot of care. Her pregnancy shouldn't be complicated, but the amount of emotional distress that she is experiencing at the moment could be bad for her. These are going to be very hard time because of what happened this morning, and and she is going to need a lot of support. She should rest and feel comforted by the family, she needs to know that she is not alone and that everything is going to be alright."

"Yes, yes... Of course..." Joffrey nodded. "Can I- Can I see her?"

"Sure," the doctor nodded, and invited Joffrey to go with him. Joffrey followed the doctor and both of them disappeared behind a corner, leaving the Lannisters and the bodyguards behind.

Sandor was the one that was still paralyzed, though he had managed to mask his shock as indifference. The doctor's words reverberated in his mind like the sound of a cannon.

 _Sansa is pregnant,_ he thought over and over again, and he felt like he was about to suffocate.

He didn't know how he felt, or rather how he was supposed to feel. He wanted to feel happy, but he couldn't! How could he? Half the Starks had just been killed, Sansa could have died earlier that day, she was being forced back into her hell of a life with the murder of her family, she had tried to escape and failed, and now she was going to have a child that Joffrey knew with complete certainty that was not his.

 _My child,_ Sandor seemed to realize that for the first time. He had been focusing only on the fact that Sansa was pregnant and he hadn't thought until then that he was the father. He was going to have a child with Sansa.

He had fucked up.

 _How did this happen?!_ he exclaimed in his mind, completely and utterly confused. He had been so careful! At the beginning of the relationship Sansa and he had been reckless, and after she was married they were almost completely carefree because they didn't think that there was any risk if something like that happened. But after they discovered that Joffrey was sterile they had been extremely careful because they new that a single mistake would mean that they were doomed.

Sandor cursed under his breath, and it took a lot of effort for him not to punch the wall. Something had gone wrong, they hadn't been as careful as they thought they had, and now Sandor was terrified. Joffrey had gone to see Sansa. What was he going to do to her? What was he going to do to their child?! Joffrey had already murdered many people that day, and he had already tried to kill Sansa as well. He was impulsive and violent, and Sandor feared the worst.

Without caring about the puzzled looks that everyone else shot him, he stormed down the corridor in the direction in which the doctor and Joffrey had disappeared.

* * *

Sansa was lying on the hospital bed, alone in a small room. She had been unconscious for some time, and the last thing that she remembered had been the darkness inside of Gregor Clegane's car, the sound of Sandor's angry and worried voice, blood, and pain. Then nothing. When she was woken up she wasn't bleeding anymore, though there was still a light ache in her belly, but nothing too bad. There had been a doctor there that told her that she had had a small hemorrhage, but that everything was okay. Then he had mentioned a baby. When Sansa had been confused and asked what baby he was talking about, the doctor told her that she was three months pregnant. Sansa had been so shocked that she hadn't been able to say anything until the doctor left the room. Now there she was, alone and surrounded by silence except for the beeping sound of the machines next to her.

Sansa looked down at her belly. It was still mostly flat, though she had noticed over the past couple of weeks that her jeans appeared to be tighter than before. She had blamed that on a bad diet and on stress and she had not even thought about the possibility of being pregnant. Now, however, she wanted to slap herself. How could she have been so stupid!

 _But there weren't any signs,_ she thought as she gently put her hands on her stomach. The gesture at first seemed strange to her, even though it was so normal and simple. Slowly, she caressed her belly while looking at it fascinated. She was scared, yes, she was terrified, but at the same time she was happy. She felt a weird and sad version of happiness. She didn't know what she was going to do, and she knew that there would be terrible consequences for her pregnancy, but what was done was done. She was pregnant, she was going to have a baby, and she wanted to be strong... But it was so difficult.

She continued looking at her belly and caressing it gently with her hands. She couldn't feel anything underneath her skin, but there was a small human being growing inside of her. As unbelievable as it seemed, it was true.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered then, while she felt that a tear rolled down her face. She was feeling sad again. "I'm so sorry that I'm  bringing you into such a world..." she apologized to the the being inside of her, her future child. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt the need to apologize to him. Or her. "I'm sorry that I can't be with your father. I'm sorry that the man who everyone will believe to be your father is a monster. I'm sorry that I couldn't take you away, that I can't give you a better life..."

As the words left her mouth, more and more tears streamed down her face until she was sobbing. She moved one of her hands away from her belly to wipe them away, and she closed her eyes to try to stop crying. She had to stop crying! It was making her upset, and that was bad for the baby.

 _"I'm so sorry..._ " she sobbed again. She took a deep breath and began to calm down after saying that, feeling that she had already said what she had to say.

She didn't hear the door opening and someone coming inside the room. A voice startled her then, making her gasp and almost jump on the hospital bed.

"Oh, you are going to be sorry indeed," Joffrey told her. He was looking at her from the other side of the room, next to the door. Sansa felt terror feeling her as she saw Joffrey's green eyes glaring at her full of wrath, but her terror was quickly replaced by anger after remembering why she was in that hospital in the first place. It had all been because of him and what he had done...

"You killed them," she suddenly muttered. The hatred in her voice surprised her, but it didn't stop her. She sat up on the bed, forgetting about what the doctor had told her about resting. " _You killed them!_ "

The door of the room was closed, so no one except Joffrey heard what she said. Her husband smirked cruelly and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I killed them," he said, taking a few steps toward the hospital bed and Sansa. "Quit the drama. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

" _You said that you wouldn't hurt them!_ "

"Yes, that was until it became very inconvenient for me to keep your brother alive," Joffrey hissed. He wasted no time pretending that the crash had been an accident, for he knew that his wife knew him well enough already to not believe it. "You were supposed to die too."

Those words made Sansa shudder. She had been horrified before, when she realized that she should have died. She still hadn't shaken off the guilt that she felt for having survived while her mother and her brother and Talisa had died, but now she felt even worse than before upon realizing that, had she died, she wouldn't have died alone.

"But of course, you had to go ahead and spoil everything..." Joffrey hissed. He reached the hospital bed and he sat on the edge next to Sansa. She tried to move away, but Joffrey grabbed her wrist and kept her in place next to him. "If you had died everything would have been perfect! But here you are, alive, and still a pain in my ass."

" _Let me go, you monster!_ " she cried, but Joffrey only tightened his grip on her wrist.

"Why did you get off that plane?" Joffrey asked. He really wanted to know why his perfect plan had failed. Sansa didn't reaping, which made him anger. " _Why did you get off the plane?!_ "

Sansa didn't reply. She couldn't reply. What was she going to say, that she had wanted to go to the airport to meet with Sandor and run away with him? She couldn't do that, it would mean Sandor's death sentence. When Joffrey pulled from her arm, demanding an answer, Sansa spat on his face. Joffrey let go of her arm, completely surprised by that unexpected attack that was so unlike Sansa. She had never done something like that, but she was not the polite little proper lady that she had been before, and she defend ended herself now with whatever she could. Joffrey wiped the spit out of his face with his sleeve, and he chuckled.

"Okay..." he murmured, looking at Sansa. "It's okay. It doesn't matter... Because you are going to be a better wife than you have ever been before."

It wasn't a request, it was an order. Sansa could see the threatening glimmer in Joffrey's eyes, the promise of a worse punishment than she could ever imagine should she not do as Joffrey pleased.

"Think about it this way. You still have family left. I can't kill them, there have been too many accidents... But I can make terrible things happen to them if you dare to say so much as a single word to anyone about what really happened this morning."

"They will find out," Sansa said then. "I don't have to say anything. Everyone will know that you provoked that accident."

"And how will they know? The same way that they knew that I killed your daddy?" Joffrey mocked her.

Suddenly, Joffrey put his hand on Sansa's belly. She tensed up and almost stopped breathing; her heart beat fast in her chest, frightened, and her stomach twisted, disgusted.

 _Get your hands off my child,_ she wanted to scream at him, but she didn't. She looked at him, wondering if the doctor had told him that she was pregnant. She supposed that he had, because if not why would Joffrey be touching her like that then? She didn't know what Joffrey was planning to do with her baby, but it couldn't be anything good. He knew that the child wasn't his. _Oh my God, what if he finds out about Sandor...? He can't find out about Sandor, he can't!_

But Sansa only ever spent time with Sandor. If Joffrey didn't suspect the bodyguard of being the baby's father, then who would he suspect of? Much to Sansa's horror, Sandor was the only obvious suspect.

Joffrey continued with his hand on her belly. She feared that he would do something to her, but he didn't. He just stayed there without moving, without doing anything; he stared fixedly at her belly for the longest time, and Sansa was starting to feel more confused than afraid.

"I guess today brought many surprises..." Joffrey murmured then, more to himself than to Sansa. "I never thought that you would end up being such a... Such a whore!"

He laughed then, as if all that was just a bad but very funny joke. Sansa remained silent and with a severe expression. She did not feel offended by her husband's words, and she just allowed him to continue laughing while he touched her belly and looked at it. He shook his head and chuckled.

"I just can't believe it... _You got pregnant..._ " he murmured. There was a bit of admiration in his voice, and Sansa did not understand why he was speaking to her like that. "I have to admit it, it takes a certain kind of courage to do that after what Margaery did."

Sansa shuddered again, remembering how she had discovered a furious Joffrey holding a gun in their bedroom after he found out that Garrett was not his son, and how she had sent Sandor to help the woman and her baby escape the country before they were murdered. She couldn't run away from Joffrey like Margaery had...

Joffrey saw the fear in Sansa's face and chuckled again, amused by he dread that Sansa was feeling while thinking that something bad would happen to her and her baby as punishment for what she had done.

"Who is the father?" he asked then on a more serious note, and Sansa froze. He waited for her to answer, but when she didn't he repeated the question. "Sansa, who is the father?"

She remained silent. She would not, under any circumstances, confess that Sandor had been her lover since over a year and a half ago, and that he was the father of her unborn child. Sansa would never put Sandor in such danger...

When Joffrey realized that Sansa was not going to speak he clenched his jaw, growing slightly more irritated with each passing second even though he had been laughing before, but the laugh had been such a facade that could not hide the desire for murder in his green eyes.

" _Who is it?_ Don't tell me now that you don't know, you can't be that much of a whore!" he hissed.

Again, silence. Sansa looked down at the sheets of the hospital bed while she felt the weight of Joffrey's glare on her. Finally the man have up and scoffed.

"Well, it doesn't matter," he said, rubbing his face with his hand. "Three months ago you were away on tour, so you could have fucked anybody... Some stupid fan, the dancers... Or did your idiot of an agent finally manage to get in your pants?"

"No!" she immediately exclaimed, disgusted and horrified.

"Not Baelish, then," Joffrey murmured. "Don't worry, sooner or later I will find out the truth... Maybe Clegane knows, since he spends the entire fucking day following you around."

Sansa flinched when she heard Sandor's name, afraid that maybe then Joffrey would stop to think for a second and realize that the bodyguard was her lover, but nothing happened. Joffrey looked at her, and then he looked at her belly one more time. Sansa wondered what thoughts were roaming that dark and twisted mind. She had seen so many horrible things happening because of Joffrey that she feared that he was planning terrible things again.

"Don't worry," he said then as if he had heard her thoughts. "I won't make you abort it. No one besides Doctor Qyburn knows about my little problem, so we will tell everyone that we are going to be parents. It will be a spark of joy for the people in these... dark times," Joffrey said, laughing at the horrified and pained expression on Sansa's face after he reminded her with those words of the events of that morning. "It seems that in the end you have made me a favor. You can thank your God that I'm in a good mood today and that I'm taking this in the positive way, or else I would be ruling that bastard out of you right now."

Sansa cried when she heard him saying those hateful words. Before she could say anything back to Joffrey or curse him or hit him, her husband stood up from the hospital bed and walked towards the closed door of the room.

"You will spend the night here today," Joffrey informed her as he made his way to the door. His tone made it clear that there was no room to contradict him and that Sansa had to do as he said. "Tomorrow, when you are better, we will travel to Winterfell, and the day after we will attend the funeral. You will do exactly as I tell you at every moment, is that clear?"

Slowly, Sansa nodded. Why say anything? She was powerless against Joffrey, and in her current situation she was more vulnerable than she had ever been. Satisfied by the nod, Joffrey opened the door and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Sansa alone again.

She thought she would be able to breath relieved once Joffrey was gone; she certainly should be relieved that things had gone as they had, for they could have been much worse. Joffrey could have guessed the truth about Sandor and Sansa, and he could have reacted worse that he had and he could have devised some terrible plan to punish Sansa. Instead, Joffrey just wanted everything to go back to normal; to have Sansa as a trophy wife and terrorize her into staying with him and being loyal to him and keep his secrets, and to have power, and now he wanted to pose the child as his. Sansa scoffed. Joffrey had, in the end, gotten what he needed to give to the people the image of a perfect family, even though it was all fake.

However, Sansa could not be relieved. Yes, things could have been much worse than they were, but that didn't take away from the fact that the situation that she was caught in was absolutely and undeniably terrible. Her brother and her mother were dead, leaving her and her child with next to no protection at all. They were completely vulnerable to Joffrey's will. Joffrey was a hand made of darkness, and they were all puppets whose strings were manipulated at his pleasure. And, if he so wished, Joffrey could cut one of the strings and doom whomever he wanted, just like he had done with half of the Stark family already. Her nephew Ned had been orphaned, and he was just a child. All the Stark siblings had been orphaned as well... And now Sansa was feeling like the worst woman on Earth for condemning her child to come into the world like that.

How could things get any worse? There was only one thing worse for Sansa, and it was death. She had narrowly escaped it, and her child had narrowly escaped it as well. She knew she should try to resist, if not for her for the sake of her unborn child, but it was so hard... It was so hard to fight... She was so, so, so tired of fighting! So tired of enduring, and resisting, and falling and standing back up just to fall again. It was exhausting, and after the events of that day she didn't know of she could take it anymore.

* * *

Sandor was walking up and down the corridor in which the rooms of the patients were, but most of them were closed and he did not know Sansa's room number, and he couldn't just go around opening every single door and disturbing the sleeping patients until he found Sansa. From time to time a nurse would walk by there, but none of them knew in which room the First Lady was. The corridor was dark and deserted, unlike the emergency department, which had been full of activity. Sansa had been moved to that wing of the hospital because she wasn't in danger anymore, and the only thing that she had to do was rest.

Suddenly one of the doors opened and Joffrey came out from inside the room, and he saw Sandor.

"Clegane!" Joffrey called him, and he walked towards the bodyguard. He didn't seem to be questioning why Sandor had followed him there. Before Sandor could say it do anything, Joffrey spoke. "Sansa is staying the night here, so you are going to have to stay too. We will come to pick you up tomorrow."

Then he walked away, leaving Sandor alone in that corridor. Sandor glared at the President's back as the blond man left and disappeared behind a corner, and then he looked at the door of the room from which Joffrey had come out. That was the room in which Sansa was, and Sandor felt the strongest urge that he had ever felt to open the door and go inside the room. He knew that he couldn't and that he had to stay outside the room guarding it, like a bodyguard was supposed to do. Joffrey and the Lannisters were still inside the building, and things were already bad enough to raise more suspicion. So Sandor slowly walked towards the closed door. He looked at it longingly, but he just stood there beside it, waiting and waiting.

About an hour had passed, and by then Sandor was sure that the President and his family were gone. He didn't know if there were any bodyguards left in the hospital, but he didn't give a fuck about them. The corridor was completely deserted at that moment, so Sandor carefully turned around and grabbed the door handle and turned it to open the door. It made a bit of noise, and once the door was open Sandor quickly stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him again.

The room was dark except for the few rays of moonlight that came through the window. Sandor looked around the room and then his eyes came upon the bed, which was slightly illuminated by the silver light. Sansa was lying on it beneath the cover, with her head resting on two big pillows. She was dressed in a hospital gown and she had her eyes closed; she was probably sleeping. She looked so small and fragile, like she was about to break down into millions of tiny little pieces. Sandor stood there in front of the door looking at her for some very long seconds, observing her and studying the state she was in. Sansa didn't look ill; the doctor had said that she was healthy, but he had also mentioned that she was delicate. That came as no surprise after the horrible day that Sansa had lived...

Sandor took a few steps closer to the bed, trying not to make noise as he walked so that he wouldn't wake Sansa up. Slowly he made his way towards the bed, and once he was there he sat in the border of it next to a sleeping Sansa. The mattress sunk beneath his weight, but it didn't seem to disturb Sansa. Sandor watched her face as she slept, just like he had done so many times before, but that time was different. Whenever Sansa slept she was so peaceful, like an innocent child. Whoever, he expression at that moment as she slept was everything but peaceful; she had deep lines in her forehead, indicating that she wasn't relaxed, and her eyes were tightly closed. Overall she looked quite distressed, and Sandor wondered if she was being tormented by bad dreams. Sandor reached out to take Sansa's hand in his. Even though he hadn't looked to see where her hand was, he automatically found it. He gently out his hand in hers, touching her soft skin with his rough and calloused fingers, and he turned his head to look at it when he realized that Sansa's hand was resting on her belly.

All thought of the baby seemed to have vanished when he came I side the room, but now that his eyes were staring directly at Sansa'd belly the doctor's words came back to his mind and seemed to slap him full in the face. Sansa was pregnant... His child was growing inside of her at that very moment, and as Sandor thought about that and looked at the woman's still-flat stomach he felt joy, for how could he not rejoice in the fact that Sansa was going to make him become a father? He was going to have a child with her... And at the same time, that same thing that the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him in his life, and he felt that he was sweating because of the sudden stress that he was feeling.

Fuck, what were they going to do?

Knowing there wasn't much that he could do for the moment, Sandor tore his gaze away from Sansa's belly, but he didn't let go of her hand. He looked at her face again, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. When his lips pressed against her skin there, he felt her stir slightly and he moved away. Her eyes were now open and looking at him.

"Sandor...?" she asked, barely whispering.

"Sshh, little bird," he murmured. His low voice was rough and raspy, but gentle as the same time. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping well," she confessed to him, lowering her gaze for a second. Sandor's guess that she had been having nightmares was confirmed then. "I couldn't sleep at first, I was so scared... But I was so tired."

"It has been a very long day," Sandor nodded, and he put his other hand on her cheek. The hand that had on top of her hand on her belly didn't move away. "Sleep. I'll be right here."

Sansa quickly shook her head. "I don't want to go to sleep. When I close my eyes I see the plane... And I see them, Sandor."

Sansa's voice broke, but she didn't cry. She didn't shed a single tear, nor did a single one appear in her eyes. They remained completely dry, and Sandor was not a fool. Maybe someone else would have taken it as a sign of strength, but Sandor had long ago learned that Sansa was the strongest person he had ever known even when she was a crying mess. No, the fact that she wasn't shedding a single year had a very different meaning, and a very dark one as well: Sansa was too broken inside to cry. She had hit rock bottom, and she didn't have strength for more.

"I see their faces, every single one... They have thee eyes closed, and I know that they are dead already... And Joffrey is laughing, and then the plane falls, and I'm in that plane... And I can't stop it."

"You couldn't have done anything, Sansa," Sandor told her, knowing that she still blamed herself, like she had done that morning when she spoke on the phone with him.

"I could have," she said, and her voice sounded angry. "I should have. I should have realized that there was something wrong, Joffrey was acting weird. All the signs were there, and I was too stupid to see them!"

"None of us saw those signs, Sansa," Sandor said. He should have been the one to see that something was way off; he had noticed it, but he hadn't realized what it meant until it was too late. He knew that, had Sansa not left the jet and had she died in that crash, he would have blamed himself until the bitter end. And then he would have been completely lost... "It is not your fault. I told you that before, and I will tell you again and again until you listen to me. Joffrey killed them, not you."

"I saw the baby too," she said then, shutting him up. It was the first time that one of them mentioned the baby in the other one's presence. "I saw the baby in my dream. I saw Joffrey holding him, and I heard his cries as the plane went down."

Sandor felt sick, really sick. He felt the bike rise in his throat, burning it, but Sandor cleared his throat and stopped himself from getting ill. Sansa was going through enough and she should not have to deal with his reactions to the horrible thoughts that were crowding his mind.

"He's not going to touch our baby," he rasped, and his fingers caressed her hand on her belly in a comforting gesture.

The words sounded foreign in his mouth. _Our baby._ Sandor repeated them over and over in his mind, trying to get used to them. They were so precious and scary at the same time, and Sandor didn't know wether to smell or to curse out loud.

"Are you angry with me?" Sansa asked then, confusing Sandor.

"Angry with...?" he started asking, until he realized what Sansa meant. " _No._ No, of course not! How could I ever be angry with you?"

"You said you didn't want me to get pregnant, remember? Almost a year ago... And I have put you in a bigger risk than you were before. Joffrey can easily discover than you are the father, and then-"

"Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the Lannister. And fuck _me_ , _you_ should be angry with _me_."

"I'm not," she confessed then, surprising him even more. Sansa out her other hand on her belly and she looked down at it, and Sandor was amazed by the change in her expression. There was fear just like before, yes, and sadness, but a small spark appeared in her gaze and pushed the other darker emotion away, replacing them with love. Sansa loved that small being inside of her, and the fear and sadness came from not being able to protect it. "We are going to be parents, Sandor..."

She finally shed a tear then, but it was more of a happy tear. A sorrowful happy tear, a mix of opposite emotions... Sandor wiped it away with his finger.

 _Parents,_ he thought as he looked at her. _We are going to have a son. Or a daughter, who knows. Good gods, what are we going to do now?_

"Yes," he said, and he lowered his gaze to look at Sansa belly again. "Yes we are..."

He moved Sansa's hand away, and he lowered his body until his head was over Sansa's belly, and he kissed it. Sansa put her hands on his head and tangled her fingers in his hair, and she laughed softly with Sandor's gesture. Sandor was glad to hear her laugh, even if it was a small and a bit sad laugh. At least it was something. He needed to show her that she wasn't alone, and he also needed to let her know that it was true that he wasn't angry. True, he hadn't wanted Sansa to get pregnant when she asked him a year ago because it would put them in a very difficult situation, and later they found out that it would put them in danger... But now it had happened; they could not go back in time, so what Sandor had to do was find a way to get Sansa and their child away.

"Sandor, what are we going to do...?" Sansa asked, feeling desperate.

He thought about it for a second before answering. He he spoke he did it with confidence. He gad a goal in mind, and he wasn't going to stop until he got it.

"I'm going to find as much evidence as I can get my hands on to show to he world the monster that Joffrey is," he told her. He waited for Sansa to protest, but she did not. "I'm going to get help. I'll start a bloody war if I have to."

Sandor never lied; he meant every word he said. He would do whatever it room to put an end to that bloody situation that they were in, no matter what it cost... As long as Sansa and their child were safe, of course.

Wether Sansa considered that a good or a bad idea, Sandor never knew. They stood there in silence for a long time; Sandor had his head carefully resting on Sansa's belly, while her hands softly played with his hair and sometimes caressed his skin. They were both lost in deep thought, and suddenly, images from earlier that day popped up in Sandor's mind. He tensed up, and Sansa must have felt him, because she broke the silence and asked:

"What are you thinking of?"

"Nothing, I... I think I saw my sister," he said then.

"What?" Sansa asked, surprised.

"One of the nurses, she... She looked like my mother," he confessed. He felt stupid saying that out loud, just like he had felt stupid before in the emergency department with the nurse. But he had a feeling inside of him that he couldn't shake away... "She's the same age that my sister would have been. I told you that my parents gave her up for adoption."

"Have you talked to her?"

Sandor shook his head. He realized then that he shouldn't be talking about that.

"I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't be saying that. You just lost your brother, I shouldn't be talking about finding my sister..."

"Sandor, I still have family left..." Sansa murmured. Sandor heard the pain in her voice, and he wanted to slap himself. He should have stayed quiet, damn it! "And you have nobody. It would be lovely if you found your sister."

"I don't even know of it was her," Sandor rasped.

"Well, go and ask."

"It's not that easy. What if she is but she doesn't know? How do I even behind to ask her?" Sandor said, and he shook his head again. He kept resting his head on Sansa's belly. He listened to see if he could hear the baby's tiny heartbeat, but there was nothing. "Besides, it wouldn't be fair... I can't meet her and get her involved in all this mess. And my parents gave her up for her own good... It would feel like fucking treason if, because of me, Gregor got to her... Things are better as they are. Besides, I doubt it's her, I'm just... I'm fucking tired," he sighed.

"I'm tired too," Sansa murmured.

"Then sleep, little bird... I will be right here."

"The funeral is in two days..." she whispered, and her voice broke again. She took Sandor's hand and squeezed it. She was shaking. I don't know if I can make it... But I will do my best."

Sandor pitied her. He felt angry too, and sad, and furious.

 _Brave little bird..._ he thought.

None of them said anything after that. Silence invaded the room, but that silence was broken by the sound of their heavy breathing. Soon, Sandor felt Sansa fell asleep. He didn't sleep at all during the whole night, though. He stayed awake, watching Sansa, guarding her in her sleep in the darkness of that cold hospital...

He couldn't completely protect her in her sleep, though. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't chase her nightmares away.


	47. Cover My Eyes, Cover My Ears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter comes from the song "Tears of an Angel" by RyanDan. I couldn't stop listening to it while I wrote this, it's beautiful! And so sad... The cover by Amy Guess is also very good, and you can imagine Sansa singing it!
> 
> BTW! Apparently you guys didn't get the email saying that I posted chapter 46. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, but chapter 46 is there xD
> 
> Enjoy!

Sandor stood unnoticed in a corner of the hall, watching the crowd of people dressed in black mourning clothes in front of him. The grand majority of them were politicians, governors and senators of Westeros. Others were also politicians, but from other countries; presidents, princes, foreign ambassadors from all over the world that had travelled to Westeros to attend the funeral of the very loved and respected President of Westeros, and of Catelyn Stark and Talisa Maegyr-Stark. Although Robb had been in office for only a year he had managed to do enough good things to make his sudden death a devastating event for many people.

The Baratheon/Lannister family was in the opposite side of the hall from where Sandor was, and he watched them with disgust. He didn't direct that disgust towards Myrcella and Tommen, who were no more than innocent kids that felt genuine sadness. No, the people that Sandor glared at with disgust were Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei. The three of them were wearing black mourning clothes just like everybody else, but it was just a pose; they would be wearing clothes fit for a celebration if they could. Tywin and Cersei had managed to engage in conversation with the President of some European country. Both Lannisters maintained their facial expressions and their tone of voice serious and serene to appear that they were sadness by the recent events just like everybody else. On the other hand, Joffrey remained quiet and still besides his siblings while he waited for the time to leave the Winterfell mansion. He also had had the decency to leave the Starks alone as soon as he was done greeting them when he arrived at that place.

The family of the deceased were not in the hall like everybody else. Instead, the Starks, Tullys and Maegyrs had retired to the parlor, where they could wait in peace and share their grief together as a family. The only one who had not joined them was Sansa, who was upstairs in her old bedroom. She was too distressed and emotional to see anyone at the moment, and she needed some rest. The day was going to take a big toll on her, and that wasn't good. The doctors had recommended her to attend only the Mass and skip the rest of the ceremony, but she had refused and insisted that she had to be there for the entire funeral. It was her mother and her brother that they were burying, after all.

Sandor wanted to go upstairs and keep her some company in those terrible moments, but he had been ordered to be in the hall with the rest of the bodyguards and he couldn't just send those orders to hell and go upstairs with Sansa. He hated how alone she was. She had her brothers and her nephew left, but they couldn't help her, they couldn't get her out of there, they couldn't save her and what was worse, she couldn't tell them what was wrong. Sansa refused to put anyone else from her family at risk, so for the moment she found herself in a situation in which she had a family to protect, a psychopath husband to please, a country to keep fooled and a child on the way. Things couldn't be worse.

Everyone knew already of Sansa's pregnancy, and they pitied her. " _Poor woman,_ " Sandor heard people whisper. " _I don't know how she can handle it._ "

 _You useless halfwits are certainly not helping with that!_ Sandor wanted to yell at them. Couldn't they see? Couldn't they see that their pity did nothing to better Sansa's situation? Couldn't they see through Joffrey's lies? Were they really so blind?!

Rickon Stark appeared in the hall then, and half the people there turned to look at him. He ignored them and looked around the hall as if he was searching for something or someone. Sandor observed him. The youngest Stark sibling looked like shit. In the few occasions in which Sandor had seen him Rickon was always cheerful, with the sole exception being Theon's funeral. But now the smiles and the laughs were gone, as was the mischievous glimmer in his youthful eyes. All that had been replaced by dark circles under his eyes, which were swollen and red, and an expression that was both pitiful and scary. Rickon Stark irradiated not only sorrow and grief, but also a deep anger that burned like the fiercest fire in the world. Sansa had mentioned once or twice before that her brother had anger management issues. Sandor didn't know if the young Stark was going to explode at some point (in which case the bodyguard hoped that he would direct all that anger towards Joffrey,) but at that moment Rickon seemed to be managing his emotions just fine.

"Ned?" Sandor heard Sansa's brother calling his nephew, who was not in the hall. "Ned?"

"I'll go get him," Sandor offered, and Rickon looked at him and nodded his head in approval.

Rickon Stark left the hall again to go to the parlor while Sandor left at the same time, but he went in other direction. He had seen little Ned before, and he had a slight idea of where the child might be. Sandor had never been in the Winterfell mansion before, but he had walked around the place before to get to know it and he knew where all the rooms were and what each one of them was. He proved to be right on his assumption of where the child was when he entered the office that had once been the working place of Ned and Robb Stark and many others before them, and found the youngest member of the Stark family there. Ned was standing in the middle of the room, looking at a painting that was hanging on the wall.

Of all the members of the family, Ned was the one that was suffering the most besides Sansa. Everyone had lost a very important person, but they were all adults and they had experienced loss before so they knew what that kind of sorrow felt like. Grief didn't come to them like a knife ready to stab them in the chest and rip their hearts out. Little Ned, however, was just a child... And he had lost both his parents just like that. In a second they were gone, and his entire world had been shattered and crumbled to ashes at his feet.

Sandor didn't say anything to make his presence in the office known, though he knew that the child must have noticed him. He just took a few slow steps forward, carefully approaching the boy. Ned didn't tear his gaze off the painting- a portrait of the Stark family- at any moment, not even for a second. His eyes were just as red and swollen as his uncle's had been moments ago, but in his gaze was reflected the infinite and dark desperation of a child that had just lost everything and did not know what he was going to do. Little Ned's heart was broken, and it would be very difficult for it to ever heal again.

"I never asked him what was in it," he suddenly murmured. His voice was low and raspy and broken after so much crying. It sounded so wrong to hear a child's voice sounding so... hopeless. "I always wanted to, but I never did."

"What was in what?" Sandor asked, taking a few more steps towards the child until he was beside him. Ned was still looking at the portrait on the wall, so Sandor looked at it too.

"In the safe," Ned answered him. "On the wall. Behind the portrait in the Red Keep mansion. I know there is one here too, but I wanted to know what was in that one."

"How do you know that there is a safe there?"

"I found it the day we moved there," little Ned simply replied, slightly shrugging. "I wanted to ask then what was behind it but... But he caught me."

Sandor noticed the way in which the boy's voice dropped even more, and his sad tone became angry. That was what shocked Sandor. He had never seen that little boy angry or scared, and he was both at that time.

"He?"

"Joffrey."

The name was whispered as if it was a taboo, and the fear in the child's voice made Sandor shudder. He frowned, wondering what in seven hells could have happened to make a child so scared of someone for apparently no reason. He knew, from an old conversation with the child, that he did not appreciate his political uncle, but from _disliking_ to being _afraid..._ There was a big difference there.

"I told him I didn't like him," little Ned confessed to Sandor, surprising him. "My uncle Theon didn't like him, and uncle Theon is dead. Grandpa Ned didn't like him either and he is also dead."

"Ned..." Sandor murmured, fearing that that might be going too far. They could be heard by the wrong ears, and the last thing he needed was little Ned Stark also getting in trouble because of Joffrey. He couldn't silence the boy, though. Finally, Ned looked away from the portrait to glare at Sandor, meeting his gaze with eyes full of tears.

" _My father didn't like him,_ " the child spat, and Sandor knew then definitely that Ned was angry.

The worst part was that it was all true. Sandor felt pity for the child, who should not be experiencing that, but he also was amazed. What others had not been able to discover about Joffrey, that child had seen it so easily... Ned had deciphered the truth about Joffrey's dark nature and his actions like if it was merely child's play, an easy puzzle to solve.

Sandor never lied, so he couldn't bring himself to tell Ned that was he was saying was foolish. It was all true, but it was dangerous. However, if he admitted it to the boy it could become even more dangerous.

He opted in the end to simply change the subject completely and pray that Ned didn't notice they way in which Sandor's expression revealed that Joffrey was indeed a murderer.

"Your uncle Rickon is looking for you," he said. "Maybe you should go with him."

He thought that maybe Ned would protest and say that he didn't want to go. Sandor was afraid for a second that the child would accuse him of knowing something and not telling it, but nothing of the sort happened. Ned simply sighed, tired and sad and broken again, and he walked to the door while keeping his gaze on the floor. Sandor followed him with his gaze, and something inside of him made him speak:

"I lost my parents too," he told the boy, who stopped walking and turned around to stare at him. His eyes were suddenly very wide; he seemed surprised with that reveal. "When I was a just a little bit older than you."

"Really?"

"Aye," Sandor nodded his head. He approached Ned and ran his hand over his face before kneeling in front of the boy, who had completely turned around to look and listen to him. "My mother died when I was ten. She was sick."

"I'm sorry," Ned said, genuinely sad. "Do you miss her?"

"I-" Sandor didn't know what to say. He ran his hand over his face once more and sighed, almost cursing under his breath. Fuck, he hadn't talked about that or thought about it on so long... He wasn't used to talking about that personal stuff. He had told about it to Sansa, but Sansa was the exception to everything in Sandor's life. She was special, he told her everything, she was the only person in the world to whom he had opened up and shared everything with. He wasn't used to talking to little boys... He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to say, or even if he should say anything, but part of him knew that that sad and lost little boy in front of him needed help, and he needed to hear what Sandor had to say. "I don't think much about it now," he finally confessed, "but yes. I used to miss her very, very much. It hurt, actually, to not have her there every day. I suppose I was in denial for a long time and that was how I learned to just not think about it, but I did miss her. I remember how scared I was in the beginning, and I didn't know what I was going to do. And then my father died, and I didn't have anything left."

"What did you do then?"

"I moved on. That was what I had to do. And I'm sure that that's what your parents would want, for you to be strong and brave and carry on."

"It's hard," Ned cried and tears fell down his face. Again, Sandor almost cursed. Who would have thought that seeing a child in that situation could be so devastating? He had never given a fuck about children, so what had changed? Maybe... Maybe it was because he would soon be a father, and that changed his view of the world so much without him even noticing. He hadn't thought about it, but he knew that would loathe to have his child in the same situation as Ned was at the moment.

"I know it's hard. It is very hard. But..." he tried to find the right thing to say. What could he say to that child to make him understand? He had to choose the right words, and Sandor wasn't good with talking. However, after a few moments of thinking, he had an idea. "You like superheroes, don't you?"

Ned nodded his head.

"How many of them are like you? How many have lost their parents?"

Ned thought about it for a second.

"All of them... I think."

"Who is your favorite one?"

"Batman."

"And what did Batman do after he lost his mother and father?"

"He became brave and strong," Ned answered with renewed confidence. Sandor gave him a small smile.

"Then that is what you have to do," he murmured, rubbing the child's hair with affection.

Ned smiled back- he was still sad, though, and it was still evident. It would take him a long time to smile like before- and then he left the office and disappeared down the corridor in direction to the parlor, wanting to join his family.

Sandor was about to exit the office behind Ned, but then he stopped and turned around to look at the portrait on the wall and remembered what Ned had said. It was true that there was a safe behind the portrait at the Red Keep mansion, he had seen it many times. He had even had access to it sometimes back when Robert Baratheon was President, and also when Joffrey had lived there. There was always something different hidden there; sometimes important documents, sometimes personal belongings, sometimes money. Sometimes even weapons. Sandor hadn't seen the interior of the safe in a long time and he didn't know what was being currently kept in it, and he had never cared. However, Ned's curiosity was contagious.

 _Maybe I'll find out when I go back there,_ Sandor thought, and then he left the office.

* * *

Sansa was sitting alone in her room, on her old and unused bed. She had locked herself there ever since she arrived at Winterfell yesterday, and she had only opened the door to let her brothers in to talk for a few minutes- even though she had cried more than she had actually talked- and to let the maids bring her some food, though she barely touched any of it. She knew that she should eat and sleep and take care of herself for the sake of her baby, but she felt too tired and too weak to do anything other than to sit there and look out the window for hours and hours without moving.

It was the first time that she was in Winterfell in four years. Everything looked the same as it did when she left, but nothing felt the same anymore. The mansion was the same but it was empty, quiet. It wasn't filled with the happy laughs that once echoed though the corridors. The library was the same, but her father wasn't sitting on the armchair in front of the fireplace reading a book. The gardens were the same, but her mother wasn't there taking care of the flowers. The office was the same, but her brother wasn't sitting behind the desk under mountains of important documents. The rooms were the same, but they were cold and empty and abandoned. Arya wasn't running around there making a mess of things, Bran wasn't spending time with his friends, and Rickon wasn't playing with the dogs and scaring the hell out of people. Yes, Winterfell was the same in appearance, but its soul was dead.

Sansa had dressed herself for the funeral. She was wearing a plain and warm black dress, fit for the cold weather of the North. She had put her hair up in a simple bun, and the only make-up she had applied on her face was to hide the dark purple circles under her eyes. She was sitting on her bed next to the window; the side of her forehead was resting against the glass and her eyes gazed lazily at the garden of the mansion in which she had grown up. Her eyes looked, but they didn't see. Her mind was far away, in another time that was almost forgotten, a time when she and her siblings were children and they played and laughed in those same gardens, back when they were happy and safe.

Her room was the same as it had been when she had left it. The last time she had ever slept in that room was when she was twenty-two years old, but her career and her adult life had made her stay more frequently at hotels than in her own room. The walls were painted of a very light blue color, and the furniture was white. She had dolls from when she was little, and the few clothes that were in the closet belonged to a younger and less-mature version of herself. She had some pictures on the bedside table, and a few small paintings on the wall.

She had visited Arya's room last night. Her sister's room was also like she had left it years ago. It was painted in a dark blue color and the furniture was dark, unlike Sansa's. The room wasn't the mess that it was when Arya had been a teen, but maybe that was because she had cleaned it before moving to King's Landing. There were posters on the wall, and lots of pictures. Sansa had cried while she took a look at them; there was Arya with Jon, with Robb, with Bran and Rickon, with their mother, with their father, with Sansa, with Ned... In some pictures she was with several of them, and in some with all of them. In some pictures she was with Theon, and in others with her friends and with Gendry. Arya had long hair in those pictures and she was wearing colorful clothes; she looked so different from the last time that Sansa had seen her, with short hair and black clothes, a gun in her hands, and murder in her eyes. The Arya in those pictures was so happy...

 _How did we get here?_ Sansa had asked herself while she looked at her sister in the pictures. _How could this happen to us?_

Sansa was still distractedly looking out the window when the door of the bedroom opened, and when she looked to see who it was she found Joffrey looking at her.

"It's time," he told her while he smirked. He was enjoying the way in which she looked: miserable and destroyed.

It was time... Time for the funeral. Time to say good-bye forever. Sansa had dreaded that moment; she had wished that it would never arrive, but she could not freeze time, and now she had to play her part. As always, she would have to be strong and try to make it to the end of the day without being consumed by everything that was happening. She should be used to it by now.

She nodded, letting her husband know that she was coming. She hoped that he would leave then, but he did no such thing. Joffrey stood there at the door waiting for Sansa to get off the bed and come to him. When she eventually did that his smirk became even wider.

"You look beautiful today," he mocked her, knowing that there was no one there to hear him.

 _He is enjoying this,_ Sansa thought, feeling a sharp pain in her chest. _He is enjoying this like a child enjoys his birthday..._

She was weak, and she was grieving and she was numb, but all that quickly became anger as soon as she heard Joffrey mock her in such a way, and it allowed her to find the strength that she needed to confront him. She had to stand her ground.

"I know that you have to come to the funeral because you are now the President, and because you were Robb's brother-in-law and my mother's son-in-law _. But_ -" she started saying. Her voice was low at first, barely a whisper, too weak to actually sound louder. However, as the words came out of her mouth, more strength came to them until the whimper became a threatening hiss, "-I don't want you anywhere near me. I don't want you near my brothers, and I don't want you near my nephew. _I don't want you near the caskets._ If you so much as _dare_ to come _anywhere_ near a Stark today, I swear I will forget about all this farce that I have been putting up for years."

Joffrey didn't say anything, he just stared at Sansa while she gave him her warning. His smirk disappeared from his face, replaced by deep seriousness.

" _Do you understand?_ "

"Yes," he said, sounding harsh. "Now let's go. People are waiting for you."

Without another word more, and already having given Joffrey the warning to let him know that she wanted him as far away from her as possible during the whole day, Sansa left her old bedroom. It was time for the funeral of her loved ones, and if she had to go through that horrible experience at least she would do it how she wanted to.

* * *

The air was cold in the North that day. The sky was grey and the clouds were dark, but it didn't rain. The air felt heavy around them when they left the mansion.

The Starks were the first ones to leave the mansion. Sansa was the first one, with her brother Jon at her left and Bran and Rickon at her right. She was holding Ned's hand in her own, and they all made their way to the black car that waited for them in front of the mansion. They were followed by the Tullys and Maegyrs in two other cars, and then the friends of the deceased left the mansion. The last ones to come out of Winterfell were the politicians from Westeros and the foreign dignitaries. They all entered other black cars that were waiting for them and had been specially designated to them, and little by little the cars left the grounds of the Winterfell mansion.

The black cars drove all the way from the mansion to the Cathedral in the city, where the Mass in honor of the deceased was going to be celebrated. Normally, the funeral would have taken place in King's Landing, but Robb had left in his will- which he had prepared in case anything should happen to him- that he wished to be buried in the North with the rest of his family. He also wanted a simple ceremony, and not to make an spectacle out of the funeral. Everyone had made sure to respect those wishes as much as possible, but then again, that was the funeral of the President.

Sansa looked out of the window in the car while they were being taken to the Cathedral, and she saw the crowd at both sides of the street that were looking at the cars that drove in front of them. They were all normal people, citizens who dressed in black to show that they were grieving for the loss of a great President and a great man. There were thousands of people there, and it warmed Sansa's heart a little bit to see that her brother had been so loved. Talisa had been a wonderful First Lady as well, and Catelyn... Sansa knew that the country loved her mother. Catelyn Stark had done a lot of things for that country, always standing behind her husband and her son, counseling them on what they should do. Maybe they didn't always listen to her, but Catelyn had done her best until the very end. But above all she had been a wonderful mother. Sansa loved her, and she didn't know what she was going to do now that she wasn't going to be there anymore. The first tears of the day managed to escape her eyes after she thought of her mother.

The Starks were the first to get out of the cars once they parked in front of the Cathedral. They walked up the steps to the front gates and were followed closely by the Tullys and the Maegyrs, and they were followed by the Lannisters and Baratheons and politicians and foreign dignitaries. They entered the Cathedral and found it beautifully decorated with white flowers. The Cathedral was full of the people that were invited to attend the funeral but had not gone to the mansion before, but the front rows were empty and reserved for the people that were now entering the Cathedral. A few cameras started flashing from the corners.

The Starks walked to the front row, and then Sansa looked forward and saw the caskets in front of the altar. Robb was in the middle, with Talisa at his right and Catelyn at his left. All three caskets were covered in the flag of Westeros. The caskets were, due to the nature of the deaths, closed. As soon as she saw them there Sansa whimpered. It was a low, broken sound, and only those that were right beside her heard her. She saw from the corner of her eyes that their brothers had become pale, and she felt Ned's hand squeezing her own. She looked down and saw that tears pooled his dark eyes.

 _I have to be strong for him_ , she reminded herself, and managed to regain her composure. It took her a great effort not to faint on the front pew.

The ceremony passed in a blur for Sansa. She didn't hear most of what was being said and she didn't quite notice the events that were taking place around her. Once again she felt too numb, too tired, and her mind took her far, far away, to a blank place where she didn't feel anything. She was almost at peace there.

She came back to her senses when the Mass was done, and the caskets were being carried out of the Cathedral. The Stark, Tully and Maegyr families walked behind the men carrying the caskets outside the Cathedral, and waited on the steps while the caskets were being put on a caisson pulled by black horses. Military columns had been formed outside the Cathedral, ready to escort the caskets and the families and the rest of people attending the funeral to the cemetery where Robb, Catelyn and Talisa Stark were going to be put at rest.

The first military columns started marching, and them the caisson started moving forward. It was followed by the Starks, who were once again followed by the other two families while the rest of people were left behind. They went all the way from the Cathedral to the cemetery on foot, escorted by the military, while the Marine Band led the funeral procession.

Sansa was once again holding Ned's hand tightly on her own, and she held on to Jon with her left arm around his to keep her from stumbling down while she slowly walked. The sky was a little bit more grey than before they entered the Cathedral, but it still wasn't raining. However, that sky and the cold made everything feel ever sadder than it already was. It was as if nature was also grieving.

The people that had been at both sides of the road before were still there, waiting for the caskets of Robb, Catelyn and Talisa Stark to pass in front of them, and they saluted with respect. Sansa saw many sad faces in that crowd of strangers. She made eye contact with some of them, and as soon as that happened those strangers gave her kind and comforting little smiles. Sansa made an effort to try to smile back, but it was the hardest thing that she had ever done. She felt her entire body shaking, and she was sure that she had seen Ned from the corner of her eye grimacing because her grip on his hand was way too tight.

Little by little, every one of her small steps took her to the cemetery. The gates were opened to let them in and the caisson was the first to enter the eerie place, followed by the families of the deceased and the people that followed them from several feet behind. The Starks had a family crypt in that cemetery, but since a few generations back members of the family had started to be buried in the grounds of the cemetery, beneath the open sky. Catelyn Stark was going to be put at rest beside her husband, who was also buried there, and Robb and Talisa would be buried beside them to rest together as a family for all eternity.

The cemetery was big, and the procession took some time to cross the place. They all walked in silence behind the caisson on a path that was surrounded by tombstones until they reached the place where the Starks were buried.

Sansa gasped when she saw her father's grave. It was the first time that she saw it, for she had not been able to attend his funeral; Joffrey had forbidden it. Jon put his arm around his sister and held her tightly and tried to soothe and comfort her, knowing how terrible that moment was being for her. Sansa sobbed and was unable to take her eyes off her father's grave. It was simple, like he would have wanted it; Ned Stark did not like extreme luxuries, and so his simple but worthy grave was perfect for him. Sansa could not tear her eyes off the name carved on the tombstone; images of his death invaded her mind again, and somehow seeing his grave made everything more real, more painful... She realized that her father had been buried right next to his sister Lyanna, whose grave was a beautiful statue of a female angel with long hair and sad eyes...

The caskets were taken out of the caisson and put on the ground next to the six-feet-deep holes that would soon become the graves of the Starks. The families and the rest of the people attending the funeral positioned themselves around the graves and remained in silence as the priest that had come with them to the cemetery said some prayers in honor of the deceased, to bid farewell to them and pray for their souls to be welcomed into Heaven.

The three caskets were lowered into the Earth at the same time, slowly disappearing from sight. Sansa held on tighter to Jon, who remained still through the entire event. From the corner of her eye Sansa could see Bran and Rickon; her brothers had managed to remain serene during the funeral, but at that moment their walls were cracking and their emotions were pouring out of those cracks. She saw tears streaming down Bran's face, and Rickon's jaw was tightly clenched. Her youngest brother's hands had turned into fists that were so tight that his knuckles were white and the rest of the skin was dark red, and for a moment she feared that he would hurt himself. But the person that worried her the most was little Ned. Her nephew was standing still at her side, trying his best to be strong. He was such a brave boy... Sansa looked down at him and him biting his lip, trying to stop himself from crying his eyes out, though without much success. She wanted to comfort him, but she was a mess as well and she wouldn't be of much help...

Cameras flashed around them, angering her. Who had the nerve to take pictures at a time like that? She knew that it was for the newspapers, but she hated that such a painful moment for the family was being immortalized. She wanted to glare at the cameras and let them know that she did not welcome them there, but she felt weak even for that.

She watched her mother, her brother and her sister-in-law disappearing down into the earth. When the caskets were at the bottom of the graves, each member of all three families took white roses and approached the holes; the Starks, Tullys and Maegyrs dropped the roses on top of the caskets, saying their goodbyes. Ned went to do that with Bran, and right after them Sansa did the same. She dropped a white rose on Talisa's grave; she had been a great woman and friend, and Sansa was deeply sorry for her death. But the hardest part came when she was standing in front of her mother's and her brother's graves. Sansa looked at them for a few seconds, and then she dropped one rose on her mother's casket.

"Good bye, Mom," she whispered, and then she dropped the last rose on Robb's casket. "Good bye, Robb..."

She felt like she had been frozen in place in front of those graves, but little by little she took small steps and walked away from there. Jon was there again to catch her in his arms, and she wept into them. She finally allowed all of her sorrow to come out in long broken sobs and mournful cries. She couldn't hold all that inside her for a second longer.

"A shame," she heard someone murmur a few feet away. "We have lost a great President."

 _Not just a great President,_ Sansa wanted to scream. _He was a great man. He was a wonderful son and a loving father and husband, and a great brother..._

And he was gone. Just like her mother was gone.

Sansa kept crying, not feeling embarrassed or self-conscious. If anyone dared to judge her because of her sorrow then that person could be damned! She needed to cry, and she was going to cry; she needed to let it all out. She moved away from Jon and walked a few feet away, wanting to be alone for a few moments to keep crying and let it all out. She was sobbing so hard that it hurt her chest and her ribs, and she had to hold her sides with her arms. She regretted having moved away from Jon now, because her legs were trembling and she felt like she was going to fall.

Someone's hands touched her arms then, holding her, and she opened her eyes to see who it was. Her tear-filled eyes made it difficult to see, but even though her sight was blurry she recognized the blonde hair and green eyes. Joffrey had approached her to pretend to try to comfort her in front of all those people, wanting to offer them the fake image of the perfect husband that wanted to be there for his wife.

Sansa felt sick, and she felt furious. She had warned him to stay away from her and her family that day, she had warned him... Almost without thinking, she pushed him away from her with all her strength.

" _ **Don't touch me!**_ " she cried.

Joffrey almost tripped when she pushed him away, and he stared at her stunned afterwards. He was too taken aback by her reaction to actually react in a proper way, let it be anger or surprise or confusion. He expression was almost blank, with the exception of his eyes, which were wide-open. The entire cemetery was suddenly silent, and Sansa could feel the weight of all the stares from everybody on her. She didn't see them, though; she didn't even look at them. She didn't care.

Still crying, she lowered her gaze to the ground and stumbled away from Joffrey, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. She was almost blind because of her tears, and that made her crash into someone's big, hard and muscular chest. She was about to react badly again, but then two strong arms surrounded her and she felt safe, she felt at home... She blinked to clear her sight and looked up, finding Sandor there. His expression was serious, with not a hint of affection in them, but Sansa knew it was just a pose. She continued crying, she couldn't stop, and her sobs were just becoming worse and worse, louder and more painful as time passed.

Sandor started walking away and taking her with him after realizing that Sansa couldn't remain there for a second longer or she would collapse. As they walked away, Sansa turned her head around to take one last look at the graves and at everybody. Everyone was still staring at her; some with pity, some with confusion, some were stunned, others seemed understanding. They had all just witnessed a very strange moment between Joffrey and Sansa, and it wasn't likely that they would forget no matter how they interpreted it... Cameras were flashing, and reporters were filming everything that was happening and broadcasting it live. Sansa caught a glimpse of Joffrey glaring at both her and Sandor, and she quickly turned her head around to stare right ahead again, not wanting to meet Joffrey's angry eyes.

She had pushed him away and almost yelled at him in front of the whole world... She was too weak at the moment to realize the repercussions that that could have. However, she could hear the whisper starting behind her back... And there was no way of shutting them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone that you have been waiting for is going to come back to the story... ;)


	48. They Wanna Break Me and Wash Away My Colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm exhausted so I couldn't re-read the chapter in search of autocorrect mistakes. If you see any please do tell me :)
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song "My Demons" by Starset.

The room was almost silent, save for the sound that came from the TV. The voices that came out of it were the only thing that broke that dead and cold silence, nothing else did. The birds outside were silent, there wasn't even a bit of wind that would move the branches of the trees in the garden, and the mansion was deserted. Sandor felt like he was the only one in that place, and the silence was almost making him uncomfortable, which was the reason why he had turned on the TV to hear a bit of noise while he got dressed. Some talk show was on, one that was known for talking about quite controversial things that dared not to be said in other programs, and Sandor decided to listen to what they said. However, after a few moments listening what he heard put him in a foul mood. Maybe the silence would have been better.

The host of the show was a man in his fifties, with white hair and gentle blue eyes. The guests of the show were two women and a man who were impeccably dressed and whose expressions were serious. One of the women, who had shoulder-length dark blond hair and looked like she was in her thirties, was speaking.

" _The official story is that the plane crashed because of a failure in the engines. According to all the reports, nothing could be found in the black box that suggests that the plane was attacked and crashed on purpose, and they are very detailed reports. I personally don't know anything about planes and engines, but some of my colleagues do understand about them and say that the reason why the plane crashed so soon after taking off is perfectly credible."_

 _"But there has been talks about the plane being crashed on purpose,_ " the host said.

" _Well, of course. An event like this is bound to make people start talking about possible conspiracies and terrorist attacks, but there isn't any evidence that points to something like that happening. The engines failed, and the plane fell."_

 _"You don't seem to think the same thing as Alice, Jeyne,_ " the host said, addressing the other woman, who had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. The woman shook her head, disagreeing with what the blonde woman had just said.

" _I do think that the official story is very credible, and that there is a very high possibility that it is true. Accidents do happen, after all, and this time it happened to the President. Just because President Stark died doesn't mean that there necessarily has to have been an attack. I did believe that at first, but..."_

_"But what?"_

_"Well, now there are some things that are just so **strange,**_ " she said, putting special emphasis on the word 'strange'. " _I think there is more to what happened than what they are telling us."_

_"So you believe that it wasn't an accident, that it was an assassination?"_

_"I believe that there is a possibility, yes,"_ the black-haired woman, Jeyne, said. " _And I believe that the Government thinks the same thing as I do, but they aren't saying anything about it."_

_"What makes you believe that?"_

_"Well, the first thing that threw me off was the now First Lady Sansa Stark,"_ Jeyne said, and Sandor stopped dressing himself to focus only on the TV after hearing Sansa's name in the show. " _We all know that she had to be in that plane. She was going to attend a memorial for her father and she was going to fly to the North with her family, but she didn't. She got off the plane. That's what I don't understand. I could understand that maybe she missed the plane, but getting off it? Why would she do that?"_

 _"I don't know, you tell me,"_ the host said.

" _I don't know either!"_ the woman exclaimed, trying to get her point through. " _No one knows, because no one has given an explanation of what happened that day! Sansa Stark got off the plane for apparently no reason and then drove away. And then- and this is the best part- in the middle of the road she made the driver and the bodyguard get off the car and she drove away from the city! And there are witnesses of this, I am not making it up."_

 _"She drove away?"_ the host asked, listening closely to what the woman was saying with interest. She nodded.

" _Yes! She just took the car and drove away for hours! President Baratheon believed that she was dead while he was taking the Oath of Office, which means that she did not call him to inform that she hadn't been in the crash. And things get even stranger. About fifteen hours after the crash, she arrived at a hospital in Sow's Horn, of all places, in company of two bodyguards. One of whom, by the way, was apparently injured. Why?"_

 _"But Sansa Stark went to the hospital because of a hemorrhage caused by her pregnancy,"_ the blonde woman interrupted then. " _She wasn't injured."_

_"I know, but that's not the point. The point is that she appeared in a hospital in Sow's End **fifteen hours** after the plane crash killed three members of her family. A plane from which she had gotten off! It doesn't make any sense!"_

_"Are you implying that the First Lady knew that the plane was going to crash?"_ the host asked. From his tone of voice and the way in which his eyes had widened a bit, it was obvious that he was shocked and scandalized by the thought.

Sandor grunted when he heard that question in that shitty talk show. That Sansa knew that the crash was going to happen? That she knew that it was going to happen?! How dared they ask such a vile question?! They knew nothing, nothing! He wanted to grab the remote and throw it against the screen to shatter it to pieces.

The woman, Jeyne, must have realized how wrong what she had just said sounded, and she tried to fix it. " _No! No no no, what I am implying is that apart from the crash, something else went terribly wrong that day, something concerning the First Lady, and the Government and the media are keeping quiet about it. I wonder what it is, I wondered what could happen that made Sansa Stark like that and end up where she did. In simply asking a question, I'm not accusing anybody of anything, if that is what you were asking..."_

_But that's what you were doing._

The host nodded his head once after the woman was done speaking, and then he turned his attention to the man that was sitting with the two women. He had been silent the entire time, listening carefully to everything that was being said and maintaining a serene expression on his face. From time to time the small shadow of a smirk would appear in the corner of his lips, making is obvious that he was being amused by what he was hearing.

" _What about you, Charles? What is your opinion on this whole situation?"_

 _"Well,"_ the man said, speaking for the first time. He had a foreign accent, " _I agree with Jeyne here, there is something else that happened that day and it is being kept a secret... But if I was given the opportunity to ask anybody about it I would ask the President."_

_"The President?"_

_"Yes,"_ the man, Charles, nodded, " _the President. If I could, I would ask President Baratheon what really happened that day. I listen to all the rumors and I have analyzed them. I have watched all the footage and read all the reports that there are on the crash and on the events that happened after the accident... Or was it really an accident? In starting to believe that it was not."_

_"So you are accusing someone, like Jeyne?"_

_"I'm not accusing anybody!"_ Jeyne protested between gritted teeth.

" _Well, she is implying that something weird happened before the crash, but what I'm implying is that someone caused the crash. Someone like... the President, maybe?"_

There were gasps from the audience of the talk show. Some people exclaimed unintelligible things and others shouted in protest. The host- who had turned a little pale- asked for silence before addressing the man again. He looked at him with eyes wide with surprise.

" _What makes you think that? That is a very serious accusation."_

_"It's not an accusation. I believed that it was a normal crash at first, just like everybody did, but the actions of the First Lady surprised me just as much as they did to Jeyne. But... two days ago, while I was watching the funeral, I couldn't fail to notice that little incident between the President and the First Lady in the end."_

_"She got nervous,"_ the first woman, Alice, that had spoken said. " _Anyone would in a situation like that."_

 _"She didn't get nervous with anyone else,"_ the man pointed out. " _We didn't see the President and the First Lady together at any moment, and just when he tries to approach her she pushed him away and told him not to touch her. In my opinion only an idiot wouldn't see that there is something very wrong with that."_

 _"It doesn't mean that President Baratheon... that he..._ " Alice seemed to be struggling to pronounce the words. " _That he killed President Stark!"_

Sandor payed closer attention to the TV and the talk show, interested in it now that they were getting closer to the truth. Yes! Yes, that was exactly what had happened!

 _Come on, you fools, he is getting it right!_ he thought while he looked at the man on the TV, Charles. _Listen to him!_

 _"Who is the only person that benefits with Robb Stark's death?"_ Charles asked.

" _The then Vice President,_ " the other woman, Jeyne, realized. _"By becoming President..."_

" _That doesn't mean anything!_ " Alice kept protesting. She was convinced that the crash had been a simple accident.

" _I would be very surprised if it turns out to have been a real accident,_ " Charles commented. _"How many politicians have died in the past years? I can think of four, not counting President Stark. President Robert Baratheon was killed, Vice President Eddard Stark was killed, Governor Renly Baratheon was killed during the failed attempt of assassination of Joffrey Baratheon, and Theon Greyjoy died. He was going to be Robb Stark's Vice President."_

 _"It's all Starks and Baratheons,_ " Jeyne realized.

" _Theon Greyjoy wasn't killed, he suffered a terrible accident,_ " Alice said.

" _It could have been a staged accident,"_ Jeyne said, shrugging, after having figured out what Charles had been meaning to make them realize. She seemed to slowly being convinced that that was the truth behind it all, and she was right!

Sandor was getting frustrated. Why couldn't everyone else realized what those people, Jeyne and Charles, had realized? Joffrey was the murderer. Joffrey was a monster. Joffrey needed to be dealt with, but for that more people- powerful people- needed to realize that was those two people were saying on TV was the truth.

" _President Baratheon wouldn't kill his brother-in-law!_ " Alice protested, completely unwilling to stop defending the man. " _He loves the First Lady, he wouldn't do something so terrible to her."_

 _"Sansa Stark was supposed to be in that plane,_ " Charles reminded her.

" _So the First Lady also had to die?"_

_"She would have died had she not gotten off the plane. And, if that had happened, would we be sitting here today, talking about this? No, we would be lamenting the terrible accident that happened to kill the President and his family, and we would dismiss all talk about conspiracies and assassinations. However, it is the surprising survival of Sansa Stark and her actions that have made us come to the conclusion that the crash wasn't an accident. If it was an assassination, then it would have been the perfect crime if Sansa Stark had died. But she didn't, and now two things have been implied here today. The first one was that she potentially knew that something was going to happen. The second one is that she was the flaw in the plan. It might be one of those two, or it might end up that she simply survived by luck and it was all an accident. Will we ever know the truth? I don't know."_

Sandor had his eyes glued on the TV screen when suddenly his phone started ringing, startling him. He picked the phone up and checked who the caller was; he didn't recognize the number. He almost ignored the call, but a little voice inside of him told him to pick up, so he did.

"Hello?"

He heard a female voice clearing her throat, and he waited for her to speak. When she did, Sandor noticed that whoever was calling him was nervous.

" _Hi! Is this Sandor Clegane?"_ the woman, whose voice Sandor did not recognize, asked. Sandor detected a slight foreign accent.

"Aye. Who's this?"

" _I'm... Well, I don't know if you will remember me, I'm the nurse... From the hospital in Sow's Horn..."_ she murmured, suddenly sounding more embarrassed that nervous, like if she was regretting having called.

Sandor frowned at first, but then he remembered the woman. He remembered her grey eyes and her dark hair and how extraordinary her resemblance to his mother was. He remembered what he suspected about her, and Sandor became pale then.

"Michele," he murmured, remembering her name. He thought that he could hear a sigh of relief at the other side of the line.

" _Yes, that's me. You remembered!_ " she said happily, and Sandor thought that maybe she was smiling, wherever she was...

 _Of course I remembered_ , he wanted to say, but he didn't. He became nervous then, and he frowned again. How did she get his number? Why was she calling? Was everything okay? Had something happened? Sandor didn't know what all that was about, but he remained silent waiting for the woman to explain herself.

" _I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm bothering you or something,"_ she excused herself then. She reminded him a lot of Sansa at that moment.

"No. No, I wasn't doing anything," Sandor said. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off so that he could hear Michele better. "How did you get this number?" he finally asked, curious.

" _Well, I have my sources,_ " Michele said matter-of-factly, and Sandor chuckled. At that moment she reminded him of himself. " _You see, I... After I saw you in the hospital and you told me your name I couldn't stop thinking and... Well, I... I wanted to ask you something."_

"Go ahead," Sandor said, encouraging her. He guessed what she wanted to ask, and he admired that she was being brave to do it. Most people usually wanted to hide from the truth, but not that woman. Besides, her asking questions might answer the questions that he had been asking himself since the night if the hospital as well.

" _Are you the son of Marcus and Celia Clegane?_ " Michele asked quickly, and Sandor nodded. Those were his parents alright.

"Aye."

" _Oh my God... Well, I don't know if you know about me, but..._ "

"I do know about you," Sandor said, interrupting her. He felt strange. His doubts had just been confirmed. Michele Leblanc was who he thought she was.

_Seven hells, why are so many bizarre things happening all at once? Can't I catch a fucking break?!_

_"You are my brother, then?_ " Michele finally asked, and she sounded as if a big weight had been taken off her shoulders after the words left her mouth. For Sandor, however, it felt as if that weight had now been placed on him.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. He couldn't believe that was happening. He had just found his sister, that sister that he thought that he would never get to meet...

Life was twisted and fate was a bitch. If Sandor wasn't already sure of that it had been bloody well confirmed at that moment.

" _Oh my God!_ " Michele exclaimed, apparently unable to believe that that was happening as well, but she was more excited about it. Sandor wanted to be as excited as her, but at that moment he just couldn't! "I- _I know that this is unexpected, it's just... When I heard your name... Oh my God, I can't believe this!"_

"How did you know?" Sandor asked.

" _My adoptive parents told me that I was adopted when I was very young, and they told me who my real parents were when I turned eighteen... After I graduated university I came to Westeros and I loved it and decided to stay, but I found out that our parents died and I never had the courage to find the rest of my family..."_

 _You were much better off without us,_ Sandor thought bitterly, knowing that that was the truth. Life with the Cleganes was misery and pain and a hell thanks to his brother.

" _I- we have another brother, right?"_ Michele asked then, which immediately alarmed Sandor. _"I think that his name is Gregor?"_

"Don't talk to him," Sandor said immediately, probably startling Michele. He heard her gasp in surprise at his tone of voice. "Don't call him. Don't let him know who you are, don't let him find you, don't let him get anywhere near you."

" _Why...?"_

"He's bad, Michele. Our parents wanted to give you a better life, don't throw it all away by getting anywhere near that monster."

" _Is he the big man that was with you in the hospital?"_

"Aye. Are you listening to me? Don't get in contact with him. And if he tries to track you down call me immediately."

" _Ok..."_ she murmured, and Sandor could tell that he had scared her, but he didn't care if that meant that she would listen to him and stay as far away from Gregor as possible. " _Is he dangerous?"_

"Very."

" _Is he the one that hurt you?"_

Sandor hesitated for a few seconds before replying: "Yes."

Michele must have picked up in his voice the hint that he did not enjoy talking about the things that Gregor had done to him, so she didn't say anything else. A heavy silence followed, and Sandor found himself wanting to know what his sister was thinking. He never cared about anything, but Michele was the only decent me never of his family that he had left. He had had no one since his parents died over twenty years ago, only Gregor, so he had been alone. Michele shared his blood, and she seemed to be a good and decent person. Sandor was happy, and at the same time he cursed his luck. His life was a mess at that moment, what was he going to do with his sister? He couldn't just abandon her after finding her, he didn't want to lose her, but he couldn't invite her into his life, where everything was danger. But he wanted to know what she was thinking of him. Was she disappointed? Was she scared? Suddenly he was afraid...

"I wanted to find you," he confessed then, breaking the silence, "but I knew that you would be better off away from us."

" _No one is better being alone_ ," his sister murmured, and he realized tat she was right. He had thought the opposite for quite a long time, but he knew that now that it was bullshit. " _I'm moving to King's Landing in two weeks, I got a job in the hospital there. Maybe we could meet somewhere and catch up on stuff? We could have lunch and get to know each other, if you want."_

"I would love to," he admitted, "but I can't. I'm... Im in a very fucked up situation right now, and I can't really do a lot of stuff apart from trying to fix it, so... Maybe someday, though."

 _"Sounds good,_ " Michele said. " _Is there anything that I can help you with?"_

"No, bit really. But... thanks."

" _You are welcome."_

"I'm glad you called."

" _I'm glad too. I have a long break now, can you keep talking or are you busy?"_

"I-" Sandor checked the time and saw that it was getting late. "Fuck, I have to keep going. Today is a bad day, I have to work. I'm taking San- the First Lady back to King's Landing."

" _Right, you are her bodyguard,"_ Michele realized, remembering how Sandor had come into the hospital carrying Sansa in his arms. " _Well, we can talk in some other moment then."_

"Sure."

 _"Please, call me anytime if there is anything you need, ok?_ "

"Ok. Good bye, Michele," Sandor said, feeling sorry that he had to stop talking to his sister. He wanted to stay on the phone for hours and get to know her and ask her a lot of things and answer all her questions, but that moment was a terrible one for that. Besides, maybe it would be better to have some time to get used to the thought that he had a sister, and to think about the things that he was willing to tell her and the things that he wanted or needed to keep a secret from her.

" _Good bye, Sandor."_

He hung up first and he put the phone in his pocket. He was fully dressed already, and so he left the bedroom and walked down the corridor in the Winterfell mansion towards the stairs, which led to where Sansa's bedroom was. He couldn't stop repeating the conversation with his sister in his head, and he still couldn't really believe that he had found her. It was such a bizarre feeling, having a family member that he didn't hate... It was a relief, and it was a curse. He didn't need more people to worry about, but he couldn't just not care about her. He couldn't wait for another chance to speak to her, but at that moment he had to forget about her. At that moment, his grand priority was Sansa.

Joffrey had already left for King's Landing with his family and he had allowed his wife to stay for longer in the North. Bran and Rickon had left for a walk with Ned, and the mansion was empty at the moment save for a few staff people and Sansa and Sandor. He walked up the stairs and the he went towards the bedroom where the girl had locked herself up in. The door was closed, and Sandor knocked on it. There was no answer, so he entered the room to see if everything was alright. Sansa was sleeping on her bed, completely covered as of she was a small and scared child that wanted to shocked herself away from nightmares. Her hair was a mess and the were dark circles under her eyes; they had been there several days already, but they were even darker now. Sansa was the opposite image of healthy at that moment, and Sandor felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. There was a tray of breakfast food next to the bed, and it was evident that Sansa hadn't touched it. She had been having a very hard time eating lately.

Sandor sighed and approached the bed after closing the door of the bedroom behind him. He sat on the bed next to Sansa, feeling the mattress sinking under his weight. Sansa still had her eyes closed, and Sandor caressed her cheek and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Sansa," he murmured with his raspy voice. "Sansa... Wake up, little bird."

He tried to be as delicate as he could. He had never been a patient or gentle man, but with Sansa he acted in ways that he had never known that he was capable. He couldn't be rough with her, and much less at that moment. Sansa was destroyed inside, and he had to pick up the pieces and help to fix her. It was going to be hard, but he had to try.

"Sansa, please, wake up," he murmured again. "Open you eyes..."

Slowly, Sansa slightly opened her eyes. She hadn't been asleep, not really, but she was so tired... She blinked several times and little by little her eyes opened more and more until she was gazing up at Sandor. She looked scared, but after she saw him there she relaxed.

"Sandor..." she murmured, and Sandor was taken aback by how raspy her voice sounded, machine his. It was probably because she had barely spoken at all since the funeral. "Is it time to leave...?"

"Not yet," he told her, and then he placed a kiss on her hair. He looked at the tray of breakfast food then. "You have to eat."

"I don't want to."

"Please."

"I'm not hungry," she protested weakly. Sandor didn't want to force her to eat, but he knew that she had to get some nutrition to keep herself healthy.

"The baby needs food," he reminded her, and that finally convinced Sansa. She realized that he was right, she was eating for two now.

Reluctantly she sat up on the bed, and Sandor helped her. Sansa felt too weak to even lift her arm and pick up the fork to take the food from the plates to her mouth, so Sandor helped her again.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, and she just sat there while Sandor picked little cut pieces of fruit from one of the plates with the fork and took them to Sansa's mouth. It was a big effort for her, but she opened her mouth and ate what Sandor was giving her.

Patiently, Sandor fed Sansa as if she was a small child, which he didn't mind at all. After Sansa finished all the little pieces of fruit Sandor fed her some toast and cheese, and then he took the glass of orange juice and slowly gave it to her to drink. Eventually he managed to make Sansa eat most of the food that was on the tray, and he stopped defined her when he saw that she couldn't care to swallow anything else. He cleaned her up gently with the handkerchief, and then he just sat there watching her while Sansa closed her eyes and rested a bit. Even something as simple as eating was a big effort for her at the moment; in a few days her strength had abandoned her, leaving her physically and emotionally drained. The funeral had been the worst thing that she had had to endure in the past days, and she was still trying to recover from it.

"Sandor," Sansa whispered then.

"Yes?"

"Help me to go to the bathroom... I'm so gross, I need a shower..."

"Sure," he said, and he stood up from the bed and then he gently picked Sansa up in his arms and carried her to her bathroom.

He placed her with her feet on the floor and stayed by her side to make sure that she wouldn't fall. She didn't, but when Sandor turned to leave she grabbed him by the arm.

"No, wait... Stay, please."

Sandor didn't say 'no'. He closed the door of the bathroom and locked it, and while Sansa stripped out of her nightgown he prepared a warm bath for her. In a matter of seconds Sansa was standing completely naked in front of him, but for once in his life Sandor didn't look at her with lust. Not because he didn't desire her anymore; Sansa was still strikingly beautiful, but that was not an appropriate moment to think about her in that way. At that moment what Sandor had to do was help her, nothing else, and so when he looked at Sansa he only thought about that.

Sansa sat down on a stool while the bathtub filled itself with warm water, and once it was done Sandor helped her get inside of it. Sandor held Sansa until she was sitting on the bathtub. She stayed there and didn't move while Sandor removed his jacket and rolled back his sleeved so that they wouldn't get wet, and then he grabbed the sponge and put soap on it. Sansa didn't take from him to wash herself, but she nodded slightly to let him know that she wanted him to do it. Sandor soaked the sponge with the soap, creating foam, and then he proceeded to gently rub Sansa's back with it. He washed her shoulders and arms and noticed that she had lost a little bit of weight in those days and looked weaker than ever. His eyes moved to her front then and found her belly; he had believed it to be still completely flat, but now that he was seeing Sansa naked he could see that there was a tiny and almost imperceptible bump there. It was normal, since she was nearing her fourth month of pregnancy. Sandor rubbed that tiny bump carefully with the sponge, leaving some foam on it.

"He's still so small..." Sansa murmured then, and Sandor looked at her. Sansa was gazing down at the small bump in her belly, but there was a distant look in her eyes.

"He will grow soon," Sandor murmured.

"Too soon," Sansa sighed, and it didn't escape Sandor how her voice sounded desperate. "Give me the shampoo, please..."

Sandor took the bottle of shampoo and gave it to Sansa. She took it, but her hand trembled and the bottle slipped out of her grasp, falling into the water and splashing everywhere. Sansa murmured a soft 'sorry' but Sandor quickly fished the bottle out of the water and poured some shampoo into his hand and applied it to Sansa's hair. He helped her wash her hair and massage her scalp, and then he also helped her rinse it. Sansa was as helpless as a little girl that day and needed Sandor for almost everything because even lifting her arms in the air was being a big effort for her, but he didn't mind. He did everything with as much care as he could muster, and after he was done helping Sansa wash herself he helped her out of the bathtub and out a large towel around her small and delicate body. Sandor sat on the border of the bathtub and Sansa sat down on his lap and leaned against his chest, resting her head there. They remained in silence, listening to the water escaping through the drainage. Sansa shivered, feeling a bit cold after getting out of the warm water despite being covered with the towel, and Sandor put his arms around her.

"Thank you," Sansa suddenly whispered.

"Why?" Sandor wondered. Sansa didn't have to thank him for anything; if he could, Sandor would devote himself to the woman and he would gladly do anything that she needed, no matter what it was.

"For being so good to me," she answered, and tilted her head a bit to the side to look at him. She looked better than before, but she still looked exhausted.

"Bullshit. You should be treated much better."

"But I'm not," she snapped. "I'm not treated better by anyone else, but you... You are the only one that cares about me."

"I'm not the only one-"

"Everyone else is dead," she interrupted him. She closed her eyes and sighed. "And I'm afraid for those that are not dead yet... Back in the hospital you said... You said that you were going to look for evidenced to show the world who Joffrey really is."

"Aye."

"Please be careful..." she said, and she shuddered. "I couldn't stand it if I lost you too..."

"Nothing will happen to me, little bird," he said, and he kissed her damp hair. "I promise."

Not long afterwards, once Sansa was already dry and she had managed to dress herself comfortably for the rest of the day (in completely black clothes) Bran and Rickon returned to the mansion with little Ned. The time to leave Winterfekl behind and go to the airport to travel back to King's Landing was fast approaching, and Sandor helped Sansa get everything ready. She didn't have a lot of belongings in Winterfell, just a few clothes that they had brought for her before she arrived there from the hospital, and so she only had to travel with a small bag and nothing else. Bran and Rickon and Ned were traveling to King's Landing with Sansa and Sandor. Ned travelled light, because he had originally been in Winterfell with the sole purpose of visiting his uncles and he hadn't taken a lot of clothes with him; all of his belongings were in the Red Keep mansion, in his room. Bran and Rickon did have a lot of luggage, however, since they were moving from the North to King's Landing because of Ned. Robb and Talisa had out in their will that they wanted Catelyn to be Ned's legal guardian in case anything should happen to them, but in car she wasn't able to take care of the child- which she couldn't, since she had also perished with them- they had originally left Sansa as legal guardian of the child. Talisa's family lived abroad, and the didn't want Ned to have to move out of the country, so Sansa had been the best option until they recently. Robb hadn't wanted his son to be around Joffrey a lot of time, so he took the decision in the end to leave Bran as legal guardian of the child. Bran had taken the decision of moving to King's Landing so that Ned wouldn't have to change everything in his life all of a sudden- school, friends, lifestyle- even though the child had grown up in the North, and Rickon had wanted to go with him. After Ned was done with that semester in school then they would move back to the North.

"Ready?" Bran asked them before leaving the mansion and walking towards the car that was going to take them to the airport. Everyone nodded, and so their journey began.

There were no incidents in the way to the airport, and the flight to King's a landing was quiet. Sansa slept through the entire flight and so did Ned, while Bran and Rickon maintained a hushed conversation and Sandor sat watching them all, but mostly Sansa, with worried eyes.

 _You poor people,_ he thought as he looked at the remaining members of the Stark family, not including Jon and Arya.

Things were much worse in the airport in King's Landing than they had been in the North. The reporters and paparazzi had somehow managed to find out that the Starks would be traveling that day and they had gathered at the exit of the airport, eager to get a few words from them. The cameras started flashing as soon as they saw the family and their bodyguards approaching, and the reporters held their microphones in front of them while they struggled with each other to get a good place in front of the exit of the airport. Most of them called Sansa's name.

"They can't do this to you," Rickon hissed, indignant. "You are the First Lady now, they can't act like that!"

Sansa merely shrugged.

"Unfortunately, I'm still a celebrity after all," she murmured before walking out the doors of the exit.

The cameras flashed full in her face, making her narrow her eyes with discomfort. The crowd of reporters made it almost impossible to walk, and the bodyguards tried to clear out the way for them. The reporters shoved microphones in Sansa's face while they shouted different questions. She put on her sunglasses so that they wouldn't have to look at them.

"Mrs Baratheon!" some of them called her. "Miss Stark!" others called her. They all wanted the same.

"What happened the day of the accident?!"

"What happened between you a President Baratheon at the funeral?!"

They were the same questions asked over and over again. Bran's was pushed by his bodyguard, who managed to get him out of that crazy crowd of reporters and cameras. Rickon had picked up Ned and tried to shield him away from the questions and the flashes. The youngest Stark sibling was livid.

" _Have you no shame?!"_ he angrily shouted at the cameras, and he made his way out of there.

Sansa was still trapped in the sea of reporters and cameras. She looked around, and though her eyes were covered by the dark sunglasses, it was obvious that she looked terrified and full of a growing anxiety. Sandor almost punched the way open for her, and pushed reporters and cameras away from the woman.

"Move away!" he yelled at them just as angrily as Rickon had. "Get out of the way, you fuckers!"

Some reporters back away scared of him, but others ignored him and continued harassing Sansa.

"Do you believe that it was an accident?!"

Sansa shook her head; whether it was to say 'no' or because she was beginning to feel panicked, no one really knew. She looked down at the floor and covered her ears with her hands while she kept shaking her head from side to side, trying to block the voices away. Her lip trembled, and Sandor heard her whimper.

"Were you aware of any conspiracies to kill your brother?!"

Sansa screamed, and Sandor actually hit the reporter who had asked that question. The man fell back against other reporters and cameras and made them trip, and in the confusion Sandor grabbed Sansa, who was shaking uncontrollably, and took her away from there.

There had been two cars waiting for them at the exit of the airport; Bran, Rickon and Ned had already gotten into one of them, and Sandor and Sansa got into the second one. Because they didn't have to wait for any luggage to be put inside the car, Sandor commanded the driver to start driving away immediately and so he did. As they sped away from the airport and left it behind, Sandor looked at Sansa. She was crying again, and she was shaking. Sandor cursed under his breath.

"Those thrice-damned sons of bitches!"

One thing was hearing someone asking those questions in a talk show in TV, and another very different thing was to have them actually asking those goddamn questions to Sansa. If he could, Sandor would have snapped their necks. How dared they think that she had known what was going to happen?!

"Sansa, don't listen to them," he said, trying to calm her down. "They are full of shit..."

"Ge-Gendry..." she suddenly stammered. "I-I need to speak to Gendry..."

"What for?"

"Just... Please. I ne-need to speak to him... It's very important..."

Sandor wanted to know what Sansa had to say to Gendry Baratheon that was so important, but he didn't ask. If Sansa wanted to share it with him later, fine, but he wouldn't force her to say anything. He nodded his head.

"I'll let him know so that he contacts you," he told her, and that seemed to do the trick and Sansa calmed down. Her cries turned I to sobs, and her sobs became silent until she was sobbing no more.

As they approached the Red Keep mansion, Sandor found himself thinking back to the promise that he had made Sansa to find evidence against Joffrey. He needed a plan, but where to begin? Suddenly, his conversation with little Ned popped up in his mind.

_The safe behind the portrait._

Sandor didn't know what he could find there. He didn't even know how he would get his hands on whatever was inside that safe, but it was a start.

 _God, help us_ , he prayed, much to his surprise, as the car entered the property of the Red Keep mansion, _otherwise we are fucked._

* * *

A small group of people in black gear were gathered in front of a one-way mirror, watching the interior of a training room and closely observing the actions and behavior of the girl that was inside and apparently oblivious to their presence there. One of them knew better, and knew that she was only pretending to not know that she was being watched.

The small group of Faceless Men watched Arya Stark as she swiftly moved around the training room, throwing knives with an excellent aim at the dartboards that hanged on the walls at different distances and heights; in all of them she hit bull's eye. The look in her grey eyes was cold and serene and angry; it had been the same ever since she was locked up there.

Jaqen H'ghar observed her from out user the room, and the other side of the one-way mirror. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. He hadn't known that Arya would be looked up there, in that place in the middle of nowhere near Oymyakon, but when he had woken up after falling asleep in the plane that took them to Russia he had found out the truth and he could not go against the boss's orders, even though he hated them. He had been forced to leave Arya there in that place, that frozen hell, while he went away and spied, just like the boss had commanded him to do. He had been away for a year, gathering information and finding out everything that he could about the people that attacked them, and now he was finally back. He didn't know how he had expected to find Arya, but she was stronger than he had imagined. He should have known that she would have been preparing herself every day for the moment when she was finally free to claim her vengeance. She had sworn that she would have blood, and she would. Eventually, she would. But now, with what Jaqen had just found out, he guessed that Arya was going to want more blood than it had been originally planned.

The other Faceless Men whispered nervously next to him.

"How do we tell her?" one of them asked, referring to the news that they had to give her.

"Who shall tell her?" another asked, looking at the girl throwing knives. He was a skilled assassin, but he looked nervous. "She isn't going to like it one bit."

They all looked at their boss, who was also there. The Kindly Man didn't say anything as he watched the girl inside the training room, but when he sensed everyone looking at him he sighed.

"I'll tell her," he announced.

"No," Jaqen said then, and everyone looked at him surprised. "I will tell her. If any of you try to give her the news that her mother and brother were killed, she will stick a knife in your throat in less than a second."

The Kindly Man was no coward, but he knew that what Jaqen was saying was true. He had denied Arya Stark the opportunity to protect her family, and now that they were dead she would hate him and try to attack him before giving him the chance of explaining anything. Although the man could easily defeat Arya in a fight, he did not want to hurt her. Jaqen was Arya's friend, she would listen to him. Perhaps she could try to hit him, but never harm him. Jaqen was the man they needed.

The door was unlocked, and Jaqen walked inside the training room. The door was immediately locked behind him, making a lot of noise, but Arya didn't turn to look at him. She continued throwing knives with perfect aim. Jaqen coughed and tried to get her attention. He was actually nervous. How was he supposed to deliver the terrible news?

"Arya..."

Before any other words could leave his mouth, Arya had spun around over her heels and she had thrown a knife at him. The knife flew right past him, making a buzzing noise near his ear, and it buried itself on the wall behind him. He could almost hear the people that were watching from outside gasping.

Arya stared at him, and he stared back at her. He hadn't moved an inch after the attack. He had expected something like that to happen.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing that an apology was in order. He hadn't seen Arya in a year, after all. She was probably thinking that he abandoned her.

"For what?" she hissed.

"For everything."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't expect you to," he admitted. "I didn't know that they were going to bring you here. If I had I wouldn't have let them take us from Mumbai with them."

Arya didn't say anything, but something in her eyes told Jaqen that she believed him. That made things easier for him, but he still had to be very careful with his words.

"Where have you been?" she asked him then.

"Everywhere, spying. I had to find out who attacked us and why."

"Well, did you?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded. He gulped before proceeding. "Arya... We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut the ending in half. Arya will very probably have another appearance in the beginning of the next chapter ^.^ Finally!


	49. Anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for the delay, I didn't think that it would take me a month to update! But, you know, summer vacations, friends, the beach, parties, the start of university all over again... Time flew by and I was so busy! But now I'm back and I'll try to update as soon as I can. Say goodbye to the days when I updated every day, though, cause that's not going to happen ever again. Sorry!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was kind of weird and I rewrote it like four times and well, this is the final product. The story is going to have more action from now on. There are going to be more than ten more chapters, though I don't know if there'll be twenty more.
> 
> I'm sorry if there are typos. My phone is being extremely weird today and I couldn't write in the computer.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, I always forget... You can follow me if you want in Tumblr! My url is aryriddle :) I have all kinds of stuff, and story updates too! Sometimes when I need to choose between two things for a chapter I will ask my follower, and I listen to requests and suggestions.
> 
> IMPORTANT! Check the first chapter for a 'little' surprise that I added in there! ^.^

Jaqen had waited for Arya to put down the knives that she was still holding in her hand, but after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence in which the girl remained still and giving no hints whatsoever of wanting to drop the knives, the man sighed and proceeded to tell her, as calmly as possible, what he had come inside that room to tell her.

He delivered to her the news that would sure devastate her, and the whole time he was careful with his choice of words and his tone of voice, trying to keep Arya from exploding like a bomb... which he knew that she would do, eventually. As he spoke he observed her reaction, trying to read her expression and know what was going through her mind... But it was impossible. Arya's expression remained blank, giving away not a single hint as to what her emotions were. It was disturbing, to say the least, and highly worrying because Jaqen had no idea what to expect of her at that moment.

He decided to ignore the knives that were still trapped in Arya's tight grip (which, Jaqen noticed after one last quick glance, was become tighter and tighter until her knuckles were white and her hand was trembling furiously) and started taking small and slow, cautious steps towards Arya, getting closer to where she was while he continued speaking in that friendly, calm and soothing manner, trying as hard as he could not to anger the girl.

He had finished speaking and was now silent, still taking small steps towards Arya. The way in which Arya glared at him with her storm-grey eyes was sending chills down his spine, and even though her face was still expressionless, Jaqen was certain that inside of her a volcano was erupting. He was less than two feet away from her now, and he was about to try to speak to her again and see how she was coping with the news that she had just received when suddenly Arya took a step forward, dodged him, and walked straight towards the door of the training room. Jaqen thought that maybe Arya was going to try to get out, and he was ready to stop her even though he knew that the door was locked, but instead of going towards the door Arya stopped in front of the one-way mirror. He could see her reflection in it, and he could also see how radically it had changed. While Arya had been expressionless up until that point, now her expression was contorted into that of pure anger and exploding rage. At the same time her expression was cold and cutting as ice. She looked murderous, and it was terrifying.

" _Are you that much of a coward?_ " when she spoke her voice was surprisingly low, hissing, and calm. That was worse than if she had been yelling and screaming, because no one could be sure when she would finally snap and use her entire wrath. She glared at the one-way mirror. "Are you not brave enough to come and say to my face that they were killed?"

Time passed with a heavy silence falling upon them. Arya kept glaring at the mirror, and Jaqen was standing behind her, wondering what was going on inside her head. He looked at the four knives that she was still holding in her hand. Arya turned away from the mirror then, and she started throwing the knives once again to the dartboards. In the two first she hit bull's eye, and the third knife was thrown with so much force and rage that it cut through the dartboard and the whole blade was buried in the wall behind it. Arya didn't throw the last knife. Her furious gaze was lost in a blank point in front of her while her back was turned to the one-way mirror.

The heavy silence was interrupted when the door suddenly opened. The Kindly Man was standing there, looking at Arya with gentle eyes. She turned around and glared at him, but the Kindly Man did not seem bothered by the rage and hate in her expression. Behind her, Jaqen eyed Arya's knife with worry, fearing that she might throw it at the Kindly Man. Jaqen knew that they boss could dodge the hit, but it would only make things worse for Arya. He took a step towards her for precaution, willing to stop her if she lost her nerves and attacked their boss. However, Arya never attempted to do such a thing.

A silent battle seemed to be taking place between Arya and the Kindly Man. Arya threw daggers through her ice that the leader of the Faceless Men blocked with his serene gaze. Without a word, the man signaled for Arya to come out of the training room. She seemed to hesitate at first, but them she just walked out of the room without saying as much as a single word. The Kindly Man exited the room right behind her, and Jaqen followed them.

The Kindly Man took Arya and Jaquen to a small office that he had, and he silently invited Arya to sit down. She refused, and remained standing in front of the man while she glared at him with defiance.

"Tell me why shouldn't I kill you right now," she hissed, being the first to speak.

"Because you wouldn't succeed," the Kindly Man simply said, taking a step towards her, "and because I can offer you a deal."

"I'm not interested in your deals!" she almost shouted. "You kept me locked up for months! You have kept me away from Westeros for over a year! You broke the contract, you stopped me from taking my revenge!"

"Faceless Men don't take reveng-"

" _I paid for it!_ " she did shout that time. Jaqen approached her, though he didn't know how to calm her down. Arya was like a bomb when she was angry, and at that moment she was wrath embodied. She was an H-bomb. "I did everything you ever asked of me! I always did everything you asked, but you broke your part of the deal! And now my family is dead!"

"Your brothers, your sister, and your nephew are alright..."

" _My family is broken!_ And they are alive, but for how much longer?!"

"Arya, we couldn't let you kill Joffrey because we didn't know who we would be fighting against! But now we do!"

That was enough for Arya to calm down just a bit. Te rage in her seemed to decrease, even if it was just one tiny bit, and it was replaced by confusion and disbelief.

"What?"

"Jaqen infiltrated them," the Kindly Man said, walking towards the desk in the office and opening one of the drawers. He took a folder from inside it and handed it over to Arya. She put the knife that she was still holding on the table and then she picked up the folder and looking at the files in it. She read the documents and looked at the pictures while the Kindly Man spoke. "It wasn't easy, but now we know who wanted to kill you to protect Joffrey, and why."

Arya read everything. With each new line that she read she frowned even more.

"But... But this doesn't make any sense..." she murmured, reading the familiar name on the files. She would never have guessed that he was the leader of the people that had attacked to stop her from getting her revenge. She could not understand why he would do such a thing! "But I don't understand... Why is he doing this?"

"For power," Jaqen was the one to answer her. "It is what everybody wants, after all."

"But it doesn't make sense! Why did he protect Joffrey? Why didn't he want me to kill him?!" Arya exclaimed, feeling completely lost. "Getting Joffrey out of his way would suit him!"

Jaqen shook his head. "It would ruin his plans. He knows what kind of man Joffrey is, and what kind of politician. He knows that Joffrey is a time bomb that will eventually just cause destruction. He wants to create chaos... and then appear as the savior that will rescue the nation."

"He wants people to believe he's a hero?"

"It's the only way that he'll ever be able to be a leader."

"He was going to kill Robb," the Kindly Man informed her, and Arya's eyes became wide. "So that Joffrey could take over... But, once he found out that Joffrey was already going to do it himself he decided that it suited him better..."

"I didn't discover that until it was too late," Jaqen tried to apologize, though he knew that no apology would ever make Arya forgive any of them, at least not completely. "When I found out that Robb's plane was going to crash, they were already in the air... I didn't have time to do anything."

He was glad that Arya had out her knife in the table. Had she had it in her hand, Jaqen was sure that she would have thrown it at his throat.

And once more, silence followed. The Knidly Man took another thing out from inside the desk's drawer, and he handed it to Arya. Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw that it was the gun that had been taken away from her many months ago. She looked it with a bit of hesitation, but the Kindly Man gave her an encouraging nod.

"I want you to infiltrate them," he told her. "And then you can have all the revenge that you want. Save your family."

"I thought that Faceless Men did not save lives," Arya muttered, remembering the words that the Kindly Man had said to her when he ordered her to be locked up. "We take them."

"Exactly," the boss nodded. "But taken the lives of these men will save your family's lives. And someone has paid for this man's life to be taken," he said, signaling to the contents in the files that Arya was still holding in her hand.

"Who?" she asked, wanting to know who had paid so much money to kill that man.

The Kindly Man smiled softly, almost sadly.

"Me," he said. Arya's eyes became even wider. "I want you to kill him. And them I want you to kill Joffrey. Save your family. Fulfill your promise to your sister."

After hearing those words, Arya took the gun in her hand. She did not need to be told twice.

* * *

 

Sansa paced up and down the room, feeling like she would explode at any moment because of how nervous she was. Her hands trembled with anxiety, and she kept her gaze fixed on the floor while her mind focused on what she was about to do. What if it didn't work? If anything went wrong then that would be a disaster. What if Gendry refused? She would understand if he did, but she prayed all the prayers that she knew so that that wouldn't be the case.

With each second that passed her nervousness and anxiety only incremented. Where was he? Sansa checked the hour on the clock on the wall. 12:07am. Gendry should have already been there. Sandor had done as Sansa had asked, and he had contacted Gendry to let him know that Sansa wanted to speak to him in private. They had agreed on a time and day when Joffrey, Cersei and Tywin would be away from the Red Keep mansion so that they wouldn't take the risk of anyone spying on them. Sandor had inspected the took to make sure that no filming or listening devices were anywhere, and after being completely sure that the room was safe Sansa had gone to it to wait.

She tried sitting down but that did nothing to her nerves and so she ended up standing again and pacing around the room even more impatiently than before. Her anxiety was gathering together into a tight knot in the pit of her stomach, and her heart was beating so fast that it felt as if it would come out of her chest at any moment. She went towards the window and stood in front of it, staring at the empty gardens of the mansion. While she roamed the whole place with her anxious blue gaze she repeatedly tapped her foot against he hard wooden floor, and she had to fight the urge to bite her nails. She had had that habit once when she was very small but it had been corrected when her mother scolded her. 'A lady does not bite her nails!' Catelyn had said.

Thinking about her mother at that moment made Sansa's eyes start stinging with tears, but she fought them back. She had cried enough.

"Sansa?" a strong male voice suddenly called her from the door of the room, and she turned around to find Gendry there. She smiled full of relief when she saw him. For a moment there she had almost started to believe that he wouldn't come.

"Gendry," she said. Her voice was weak as a result of days of hardly speaking a word. Her throat felt sore, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

Gendry stepped further inside the room and closed the door behind him. He approached Sansa, who moved away from the window. After a brief moment of hesitation Gendry hugged Sansa, and she welcomed her friendly and comforting embrace.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured then, letting go of her. "About everything. I... If there is anything I can do, Sansa, please just tell me. I'll do anything."

He was being sincere, Sansa could hear it in his voice and she could see it in his eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured softly before taking a deep breath. "I... I didn't know who else to go to."

"Why did you want to see me?" he asked, and his tone have away that he knew that he was there because Sansa was indeed going to ask something of him.

Sansa hesitated, feeling guilty... Extremely guilty. She had seen her loved ones die around her because of the dangerous game that they had been playing with Joffrey, and now she was going to ask Gendry to put himself in danger as well. That was selfish of her, but she had no other choice! It was now or never, and the safety of her family was above that of anyone else's. If she was selfish because she wanted the family she had left to be safe at the expense of Gendry putting himself in danger, then she was going to be selfish.

"I need to ask you a favor. A big one."

She waited for Gendry to nod his head, letting her know that he was willing to listen I whatever she had to say. Sansa took a deep breath and then proceeded to continue explaining herself.

"But first I need you to know something. Joffrey..." she stopped, feeling a sharp pain in her chest. God, the words were so hard to say out loud... "Joffrey... He was the one... He killed Rob, and Mom, and Talisa..."

She waited for Gendry's reaction. The young man's eyes became wide and his face became pale as if he had just seen a ghost. He clenched his jaw; the fury palpable in him, and it reflected on his deep blue eyes.

"I-" he said, lowering his head and staring at his feet for about two seconds before looking back at Sansa and saying, "I suspected it... I think, deep down, I had no doubts..."

"He killed my father too. And Theon," Sansa confessed, and she saw the fury in Gendry's eyes becoming stronger. "And I'm afraid that he won't stop. There was a plan to deal with the whole situation, but... I don't know what happened."

Gendry frowned. "A plan? To escape?"

Sansa shook her head. "To get rid of him."

Gendry's eyes became even wider that time, shocked by Sansa's confession that there had been a plan for killing his half-brother. Gendry hated Joffrey, and after what he had been told moments ago he hated him even more, but he wasn't expecting to hear that.

"To _get rid_ of him? Where you the one that ordered his attempt of assassination?"

Sansa quickly shook her head again. She wasn't responsible for the attempted assassination that had resulted in Gendry's uncle being killed. She felt terrible for that death just because of the fact that it was her sister who had done it, even if it wasn't on purpose. She knew she had to tell the whole truth to Gendry in order for him to trust her, and it was only fair since she was going to ask him a huge favor. But how do you tell a dear friend whose help you need that your sister, the woman that he loved, killed his beloved uncle? Sansa hated to have to do that, but she had made a decision days ago, and she was prepared to explain everything to Gendry.

"Do you know who the Faceless Men are?" she asked, and he nodded. His frown gave away how confused he was. "They were the ones that tried to shoot Joffrey. And Arya..." _Oh God, here we go._ "Arya is with them. She joined them after our father was killed. She was the one that pulled the trigger."

If Sansa had expected Gendry to be furious or to shout or run out of the room after hearing those awful news, she was disappointed. Gendry's expression lost some of the fury that had reigned in it seconds ago, and it was replaced by the sadness. There was also a knowing look in his eyes, and it was Sansa's turn to be confused.

"I should have known," Gendry murmured, nodding slightly. He passed his hand over his face and groaned. Suddenly he looked very tired, as if realizing what his girlfriend was and what she had done had drained him of energy. "I should have known she would do something like that..."

"She didn't want to kill Renly."

"I know. She was going after Joffrey for revenge... Gods, how... How do you know that it was her?"

"I saw her."

"When?"

"A week after the funeral, when I went to Tarth. She went to talk to me, she wanted to explain where she was and why she was doing what she did. She told me that she was going to attack Joffrey again, that she was going to kill him... But it never happened. I haven't seen her since then, and the only news that I had of her were that she was in India. I've been waiting two years for an opportunity to get away from this hell, but bow my mother and brother are dead, and I know that I can't escape."

"Sansa, you can't go on like this," Gendry quickly protested, taking a quick look at the young woman and seeing what all the grief that she was experiencing, all the stress and all the fear was doing to her. She was still beautiful, but her face looked gaunt, and overall her whole body was weak as a result of sleepless nights full of nightmares. Her deceased loved ones tormented her, and knowing that her brothers, her nephew, and soon her child were under Joffrey's control was making her sick and restless. She was paranoid. Gendry was right, she couldn't go on like that. "We need to do something to stop him!"

"We can't do anything. No one can. Joffrey is not the silly boy he used to be anymore," Sansa said bitterly. "He has grown up into a murderous man, and he is intelligent. He is calculating and ruthless. He knows what he is doing and he won't let anything or anyone stop him. I have tried everything that I could, and nothing has worked. My brother was the most powerful man in the country, he tried to help me, and he is dead," she said, and her voice almost broke. She stopped talking for a second, trying to remain calm, and Gendry looked at her with pity. Sansa's stomach turned. She hated it when people looked at her with pity. She did not want it, what she wanted was to be free and be treated like any other person, she did not want to be some broken little girl that people felt sorry for. "I have accepted that I am not getting out of here, at least not anytime soon. I can live with that, I have been doing it for the past three years… But now my brothers are here, and my nephew, and I'm so scared for them! I'm _terrified_ that Joffrey will do to them what he did to everyone else!"

Gendry realized what Sansa wanted then, and a look of understanding covered his expression.

"You want me to take them away and hide them."

Sansa bit her lip, wondering if she was maybe asking too much. She knew that Gendry would help her in any way that he could, but from that to asking him to sneak three people out of the country and keeping them away from the most powerful and dangerous man of the nation… She would definitely understand it if he refused to do such a thing, if he refused to risk his neck, but the thought that he could say 'no' terrified her.

"I'm asking too much, I know, _I'm sorry_!" she immediately apologized, even thought Gendry hadn't protested yet. "It's just that…! I can't keep doing nothing and just waiting for that **_monster_** to kill someone else that I love! _I can't!_ _I won't allow it!_ "

Her body was shaking, panicked. Gendry put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down so that he would be at the same height level as her to look at her straight in the eye. His expression was serious and solemn, with no a shadow of hesitation in his fierce blue eyes. He had already taken his decision.

"I will do it," he said. At first Sansa thought that she hadn't heard well, that he had said something else, but after looking at him in the eyes and seeing that cold determination in them she realized that Gendry had said what she thought that he had said. "I will take Ned and Bran and Rickon and I will get them far away from here, where they will be safe and looked after. Everything will be fine, I promise."

" _Gendry, thank you!_ " Sansa cried, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash through her. She gave Gendry a tight hug, wanting him to know how much she appreciated what he was going to do for her. "Thank you! Oh God, I feel terrible that I'm involving you in this, but I had no one else to ask! You are the only person I trust that can actually do something…"

"I understand, Sansa, and you don't have to thank me," he sad, hugging her back.

"How can I ever repay you?

"You don't have to," he said, letting go of her. "You are Arya's family, and even though after all that happened, after everything that I've found out… I love her more than anything in the world," he said, almost chocking on his words. The mention of Arya had suddenly made him emotional, but he kept his composure and his strong appearance. "You Starks are like my family, then. You have been better to me than any of the Baratheons. I will do anything I can to make sure that you are all safe."

Sansa thanked him again, and Gendry simply smiled as a response. Sansa didn't think that she could ever thank him enough for agreeing to do what she asked; even if Gendry did not want her to, Sansa would spend the rest of her life trying to repay him for it. Thinking about separating from her family (specially in those hard and dark times that they were living) made her heart ache, and she knew that she was going to miss them terribly, but it was for the best.

"What about you?" Gendry asked suddenly.

"What about me?"

"Aren't you coming too?"

"I can't. I want to, but if I go then Joffrey will look for us for sure, he will want to find me and take revenge on me, and then we will all die. But if I stay… If I stay he might let you go… As long as I give him what he wants."

"You can't!" Gendry exclaimed, horrified, but Sansa shook her head.

"I can, I have to," she hissed. "I have to protect my family, no matter what it takes. For now this is what I get, but I will leave… Eventually, when it's safe for me, for all of us." She looked down at her belly and gently put her hands on it, tenderly caressing it. "I have to protect my baby too, so I won't stay… But I can't leave now."

She wasn't sure if Gendry understood or agreed with her, but he didn't say anything and he didn't try to protest again to convince her to leave. A long moment of silence followed, which ended with Gendry's tired sigh.

"Well, then… I have to leave. I have to start planning and preparing everything if we are doing this."

"Where will you take them?"

"To Europe. I have some properties around in several cities, so it won't be hard to hide them. I will arrange everything to leave as soon as possible."

"Perfect," Sansa sighed.

"Have you told them?" Gendry asked.

And again, Sansa shook her head from side to side one more time.

"Not yet."

She was planning on doing that right away… And, knowing her brothers, it wasn't going to be easy to convince them to leave.

* * *

 

Sandor saw Gendry going down the stairs when the young man was about to leave the mansion, and they greeted each other quickly. Sandor wondered how the meeting between Sansa and Gendry had gone, and to what sort of agreeing they had come. He hadn't asked Sansa much about her plans, even though he knew that she would tell him anything that he wanted to know. However, he deduced that the less people that knew what was Sansa was planning, the better it would be.

He was on his way to Sansa's bedroom to see how she was when he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the corridor, realizing that he was standing right next to the open door of Joffrey's office. The President had been occupying that office but almost twenty-four hours a day ever since he got back from the North, and that day was the first one that it had been empty. There wasn't anyone around to catch him and get him into trouble, so Sandor wasted no time in walking inside the office.

He paid no attention to anything except the portrait on the wall. He went straight towards it, remembering what Ned had said to him. There was a safe behind that portrait, he had always known that, but what was in the safe? Sandor had used every opportunity that he had to try to find the knife that had killed Eddard Stark. He knew Joffrey too well, and he was completely sure that Joffrey had kept that knife as a reminder of the murder that he had committed; Joffrey was sick like that. Sandor hadn't found the damn knife anywhere, and he had almost lost hope to find it until he was reminded of the existence of that safe by Ned. He hadn't thought about looking in there before, but it was the last option that he had left. The problem was that he didn't have access to that safe anymore, he had no clue what the password was.

He stood in front of the portrait for a very long time, scrutinizing every single part of it with his narrowed grey eyes. He was trying to think of a way to get access to the bloody safe, but everything was too risky.

"Fucking hells," he grunted under his breath.

It was no use to stand there in front of the portrait like an idiot that day. If he wanted to do things right he would have to think about everything carefully so as to not screw up. He took one last look at the portrait before walking out of the office. He went to Sansa's room as he had originally planned, but she wasn't there. He searched for her over the mansion until he hears voices coming from Bran Stark's bedroom. Sandor heard Sansa and Bran speaking, but he didn't hear what they were saying. He was not going to stand there eavesdropping on them, and he didn't know how long he would have to wait for Sansa to stop talking to her brother, so he returned to his bedroom.

He was tired, and his intention was to take a long hot shower and lay in his bed and just close his eyes for a while. Then later he would maybe east something and drink a great deal of wine or beer or whatever he got his hands on first. Before he could get to any of that, however, a big brown envelop caught his eye. That hadn't been there when he had left the room.

Frowning, Sandor slowly approached the bed, never taken his eyes off the brown paper envelope. His name, _S. Clegane_ , was written in black market on it. With wary hands Sandor picked the enveloped up and opened it. He let the contents of the envelope fall on his bed, and he was shocked when he found a bunch of pictures and a typed letter.

 _What the fuck is this?_ he wondered, confused by what he was seeing. He looked around the room, as if he was hoping to find whoever had put that envelope in there to still be in the room. Of course, there was no one else but him in his bedroom.

He picked up the letter first and read it. He wasn't sure if he could even call it a letter, for it only said:

**_Meet me at Visenya's Hill tonight at midnight. Come alone._ **

**_V._ **

"What in seven hells...?" Sandor muttered out loud, rereading the letter and frowning even more. Who the fuck had sent that to him?! And who the fuck did that person think that he was, ordering him around?!

Sandor was about to tear the letter to tiny little pieces and throw them out the window and scatter them to the winds when his attention turned to the pictures that had fallen from the envelope along with the short letter. Feeling curiosity to know what they were and why the person had sent them to him. He hadn't payed a lot of attention to them when he picked up the letter, so he didn't see what was photographed in the pictures...

He took one of the pictures and looked at it, and before the image could even register in his mind his eyes caught a glimpse of auburn in it. Sandor became pale once he realized what he was looking at.

It was a picture of Sansa and him, kissing in a dark corned in the street in Sunspear one night when they had been absolutely sure that they were alone.

Horrified, Sandor looked at the rest of pictures. They were all of him and Sansa, taken in almost every place that they had been, and some of the picture were from days that had happened longer than a year ago. In all of the pictures they were kissing.

" ** _Fuck!"_** Sandor yelled, tearing the picture that he had in his hands in half. He took all of the pictures and the letter and shoved them inside the envelope again, and then he ran out of his room.


	50. Allies.

Night had fallen over King's Landing. Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei had already returned to the mansion, and it would soon be time to go downstairs and have dinner. Sansa was sitting on the bed, reading a book. After speaking with her brother Bran she had gone to rest to the bedroom, for the doctor had told her that she needed a lot of rest during her pregnancy and that she had to take good care of herself. Sansa felt tired, so she didn't complain about having to be in bed almost the entire day, and anyways she didn't feel like doing anything. Ever since the day of the accident the only thing that she wanted to do was to close her eyes and sleep, but sleep never came so she decided to take a book and try to read it. She had been an avid reader in the past, but she felt too tired even for that. Reading stories didn't seen to make any sense anymore. Why would she want to read stories that had endings full of lies when she knew that they weren't real? In the past she had thought that books with sad endings were awful; now she knew that they were just realistic.

She had barely managed to read a chapter when the door of the bedroom opened, and she put the book down on her lap and looked at the person that had come in. It was her brother, Rickon, and he seemed to be about to explode with anger.

 _Has Bran spoken with him already?_ Sansa wondered after seeing how angry her brother was. After Gendry had left she had gone to talk to Bran and she had told him about her plans with Gendry. Bran had listened quietly while she told him that Gendry was going to take him, Rickon and Ned away to Europe to keep them hidden, and she had also explained why. She had told him the whole truth. After she was done, Bran was very pale and looked sick to his stomach. Sansa had thought that her brother would vomit all over the floor after knowing what had been going on with Joffrey in all those three years, but the young Stark had managed to keep his cool and he had talked to Sansa, arguing with her. He did not want to leave, but after Sansa told him that Ned could not stay in King's Landing and that he needed someone from his own family to protect him, Bran had agreed to go and not to argue anymore.

"Rickon?" she asked, wondering if everything was alright, though she was sure that her younger brother had come there to protest. She was right.

"I'm not leaving," what the response that she got. Sansa sighed and closed the book that was on her lap before putting it on the bedside table.

"Rickon..."

"You've heard me," he hissed rather harshly, glaring at her with his angry blue eyes. "I'm staying right here with you."

Sansa closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She felt a headache coming; she did not have the energy to have this fight with her brother, not after just having the same one with Bran. Besides, Rickon was a thousand times more stubborn than Bran.

"Yes, you are," she said to him. She spoke softly, not wanting to fight. It was already decided. Her brother would leave along with Ned and Bran, and that would be the end of it. However, things were not so clear for the youngest Stark sibling.

"No!" he insisted. "I'm staying right here with you!"

"No!" she exclaimed angrily this time. "Lower your voice, they are going to hear you!"

Rickon turned around and slammed the door of the bedroom shut, locking himself and Sansa inside and isolating them from the rest of the household so that they wouldn't be heard. He turned around again to face his sister, who was getting out of the bed.

"You can't tell me what to do! You are not my mother!"

" _I'm your sister!_ " she almost yelled. "And I will tell you what to do because I want you to stay alive!"

"You shut up during three years to protect us, but that didn't keep Mom and Robb alive, _did it?!_ "

Sansa did not know what kind of demon possessed her at that moment, but right after hearing Rickon's hateful accusation her hand shot up and slapped him right across his face, turning his head to the side. Rickon didn't even wince, even though the red and swollen mark on his cheek looked very painful, but Sansa gasped, unable to believe that she had just done that. She covered her gaping mouth with her shaking hand, looking at her brother horrified. She had hit him. She had never ever hit anyone from her family, not even when she was extremely angry with them! All she had ever done was yell, but now she had completely lost control over herself.

_What is happening to me?_

"Rickon, I'm so sorry..." she apologized with trembling lips.

Rickon lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head, and Sansa feared that he was not going to forgive her. She was surprised when Rickon apologized.

"No, I'm the one that's sorry," he murmured, finally raising his gaze to look at her. He wasn't glaring at her anymore, and the expression on his face was sad. Sansa stopped seeing the angry young man that Rickon had been moments ago and instead started seeing the boy, barely nineteen, whose world had crumbled to his feet in flames around him without previous notice. "I shouldn't have said that..."

"But you are right," Sansa whispered weakly. "Maybe if I had said something earlier they wouldn't be dead..."

"He would just have killed them sooner," Rickon hissed, and the hate returned to his voice. "Or not, we will never know! What matters now is that he doesn't kill you."

"He won't hurt me."

"Yes, he will! And I will kill him!"

"Don't," Sansa muttered severely. "Rickon, I don't want you anywhere near Joffrey, understand? He will pay for his crimes eventually, but I don't want you getting hurt meanwhile."

"But you can't send me away," Rickon said stubbornly. "I am going to stay here, to protect you."

"Sandor will protect me."

"Clegane is not enough! If anything, he got you into even more trouble!" Right after saying that Rickon lowered his gaze to stare at his sister's belly, which had a tiny little bump, almost unnoticeable. "I'm staying, Sansa, there's nothing you can do about it. Bran will leave to be with Ned, but I'm staying. Don't try to convince me to leave, I won't change my mind."

"You are under my care! I'm responsible for you, so you'll do as I say!"

"I am legally an adult! I can do as I want, and I say that I'm staying and that will be it!"

Sansa opened her mouth to protest but she stayed silent. She just didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Reluctantly she gave up, and Rickon looked at her with pity in his eyes. He did not want to fight his sister and make her suffer, but he had no other choice. He approached her until he was standing right in front of her.

"You have been protecting us all this time..." he murmured, feeling an intense guilt building up inside of him and consuming him. He felt that he should have known what was going on with Joffrey. He always boated that he was so smart, that he perceived and figured things out so easily... But his senses had failed him miserably, hadn't they? "Let me protect you now."

"I just..." Sansa started saying, but she choked on her words. She closed her eyes and the images of her father's dead body and the caskets of her mother and brother once again tormented her mind. "Please don't die."

Rickon hugged her and Sansa held on to him as if her life depended on it.

"I won't die, big sis," Rickon murmured. "I promise."

* * *

 

Sandor had waited until everyone went to sleep and all the lights were off to sneak out of the mansion and go to the car. It wouldn't really be a problem if anyone saw him leaving, for it was his night off and it wasn't unusual to see him and the other bodyguards leaving some nights to go to the pub and get pissed drunk. That hadn't gone out to get drunk at night in a very long time because he didn't want to leave Sansa alone with Joffrey, and getting drunk was certainly not his intention this night either.

He drove all the way from the Red Keep mansion to Visenya's Hill in absolute silence. His mind was spinning, thinking about the pictures and the note over and over again. He had burned the pictures back at the mansion so as to not risk having the wrong person finding them, and he had the note in his pocket. He visualized the message a million times on his mind, trying to guess who in seven hells had sent him that bloody note.

Sandor still couldn't believe that someone had been following him and Sansa all along and had taken pictures of them together in the most compromising places and situations. Never before in his life had anyone ever snuck up on Sandor, and much less spied on him. Those who had tried had ended up badly, and that was one of the traits that made him an excellent bodyguard. But that time, right when he should have been more careful than ever, he had completely fucked up. Like, he had seriously fucked up! If those pictures reached the wrong hands Joffrey would have his head, and then Sansa would suffer the consequences as well. Sandor wanted to punch himself. How could he have been so stupid?!

He wondered who the fuck had sent him the message, and what the hell that fucker wanted. If that person's intentions were to extortionate Sandor them they had gone to the wrong place, for he didn't even have a penny. Sansa and the others Starks were loaded with money, but Sandor would not tolerate them giving up their fortune to save their necks. No, Sandor had a better option, one that he was very good at. He looked at the compartment in which his gun was hidden. He would wait for whomever had summoned him at Visenya's Hill, and then he would pull a bullet through that asshole's brain to silence him or her forever.

Visenya's Hill was the best place in the whole city for that kind of encounters. There was nothing in there apart from parks full of trees, and in those late hours of night there was not a single soul in there. Sandor pulled over next to some trees and shut down the engine of the car. He didn't leave the vehicle, though, and he examined his dark surroundings before checking the hour on his watch. It was 11:58, two minutes before the time at which he had been told to be there.

Sandor waited inside the car, and he reached for the gun inside the compartment in front of the passenger's seat. When he looked back up and he almost jumped on his seat when he saw a hooded man a couple of feet in front of his car that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

 _That must be him,_ Sandor thought, and he grunted with distaste. He was finally going to know who was the son of a white that had dared to soy on him and the little bird...

He got off the car and slammed the door shut behind him before he started walking towards the hooded man. He hid the hun behind his back as he walked, and he observed the strange man in standing in front of him. The man had his back turned to Sandor, so it was impossible to see his face. He wasn't particularly tall, and he was plump. His hood was of the brightest purple color that Sandor had ever seen, which made him frown. Since when did people come to this kind of meeting dressed like that?!

His grip around the gun became tighter, and he had to restrain himself from aiming at the back of the man's head and shooting him right then and there. But first he had to see his face...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my friend," the hooded man spoke then. His voice was soft and calm, and something about it made Sandor grit his teeth with annoyance. He thought he recognized that voice from somewhere...

The man turned around then to finally face Sandor, and he pulled his hood down. Sandor snorted when he recognized the man.

"Varys," he muttered. "I should have known..."

Varys, the most celebrated paparazzi, journalist, and spy of the country smiled when Sandor recognized him. He didn't seem one bit bothered by the anger in the bodyguard's menacing grey eyes. Sandor moved his arm from behind his back, letting the gun be seen by Varys. The plump, bald man simply looked at the weapon with indifference.

"If you kill me, a copy of the pictures I sent you will be all over the internet by morning," he told Sandor. "I wasn't going to come here without some... insurance."

"What is it you want?" Sandor asked, not putting the gun away, but not aiming at Varys with it either. "Is it money?"

"Money is of no use to me," Varys said, and Sandor knew that it was probably true. Varys never did anything for money. He had a show and a magazine, in which he always revealed information that no one knew about politicians and other important people. He revealed their secrets and ruined their careers, and sometimes what he did to destroy someone worked for the benefit of another politician or powerful person. Varys was a dangerous man, for no one ever knew what his true intentions were, or whose side he was on.

"What is it, then?" Sandor hissed. "Why did you take those pictures? What do you want?!"

"You are a smart man, Clegane," Varys said. "What do you think I want?"

"Well, you clearly don't want to extortionate me or Sansa," Sandor said, that much was obvious since Varys didn't want money. What other options were there, then? "And you don't want to show them to Joffrey, not really. You would have done it by now if you did."

"Oh, I could show them to him. In fact, that would serve my purpose," Varys said. A small smile appeared on his thin lips, making his expression kind of malicious. With each second that passed Sandor trusted the man less and less.

"If your career is anything to go by, you want to ruin Joffrey," Sandor rasped, and his eyes darkened a shade when he realized then what the purpose of those pictures was. "You want to show them to him so that he snaps. You want to show his true face."

Smiling with satisfaction over Sandor's deduction, Varys nodded his head.

"Joffrey Baratheon is a good actor, but I wonder how long would he be able to keep his wrath hidden if he ever saw those pictures of his wife and his bodyguard in public?" the bald man asked himself I'm a fake tone of curiosity. He already knew the answer to that question as well as Sandor. "He would finally show his true colors."

"Why do you want that?"

"Why do I want anything, really? I have my own reasons."

"If you want to make those pictures public at least give me time to get Sansa out of the country and hide her!" Sandor asked, starting to sound a little bit desperate when in fact he was very desperate. He would gladly kill Varys if that would solve anything, but he already knew that Varys had arranged for those pictures to be uploaded to the internet if anything ever happened to him. Sandor could not hope to kill him and find whoever it was that had the copies of the pictures in time to prevent them from going viral. He felt so _powerless!_

"Clegane, you haven't been able to get her out in two years, what makes you think that you can get her out now? Joffrey will follow you wherever you go, and he will find you."

"Then why did you make me come here?!"

"To make a deal," Varys explained, remaining calm unlike Sandor who was already shouting. "I want to create Joffrey's downfall, but what I have is not enough. Now, I know that he has committed crimes, many of them. The plane crash? That was no accident, I'm not a fool. But he covers his tracks very well, and getting evidence that he was behind that crash will probably be a tedious and long process. Now, if you can give me something, anything that will uncover his true nature to the world..."

"So you are blackmailing me," Sandor scoffed. "I give you valuable evidence, or you'll destroy me and Sansa, is that it?"

"Well, yes," Varys admitted, merely shrugging his shoulders somewhat carelessly. "So what is it going to be, my friend? Do you have anything for me?"

"I don't have anything right now..."

"Pity," Varys murmured before Sandor could even finish. It took all the control he had for Sandor not to shoot him at that moment.

" _But-"_ he quickly added. "I do have something," he said, igniting Varys's curiosity. "What if I told you that Joffrey Baratheon not only killed President Stark... but that he also ordered Theon Greyjoy's death? And... He also killed Vice Present Stark with his own hands. There is evidence of that, and I can find it. I will find it."

He saw Varys's eyes brightening up with the sparkle of victory that appeared in those that had found a treasure. Sandor knew that he had been right in giving Varys that information before the bald man, the master of secrets of Westeros, smiled with the overwhelming satisfaction that came only at the glimpse of success.

"Well then, my friend. I believe we have a deal!"


	51. Are There Some Aces Up Your Sleeve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm back! Here's a cute little chapter for you. I wanted to take a small break from the darkness and drama and whatnot and give you something nice (we all know that those are very scarce!) for you to enjoy! 
> 
> This is not beta'd and my phone's autocorrect is still a jerk. Besides, I wrote this in a hurry during a break from studying midterms (ugh!) so forgive me for all the mistakes that I possibly did not see. I'll check for those later. 
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song "Do I Wanna Know" by Arctic Monkeys.
> 
> Enjoy! And tell me what you think! ^.^

Sandor grunted frustrated when he saw for the fifth day in a row that he still had no way of opening the safe behind the portrait in Joffrey's office. He turned the blacklight off and put the drawing back in its place, silently cursing himself.

Varys had told him to get the evidence as soon as possible so that they could ruin Joffrey. Sandor was positive that the evidence was the knife, the murder weapon, and that said knife had been locked inside the safe. After all he had spent almost thirty years of his life by Joffrey's side, so he had a good idea of his the little shit's mind worked. Joffrey adored trophies that reminded him of his victory, and Sandor knew that in Joffrey's mind Ned Stark's murder was a victory, thus making the knife a trophy... And what better place to hide said trophy than in a vault in the President's office? Surely no one would dare try to break it open!

Even though Sandor had sometimes had access to the safe in the past, he no longer did. No one save Joffrey knew the password of the damn thing, and Sandor had no idea how I get it. Hidden cameras? That wouldn't work. He had been thinking during the ride back to the mansion the night that he met with Varys about what other options he had, and the solution had popped into his head all of a sudden while he had been reaching the mansion' front door.

Sandor's master plan was half genius and half fucking stupid. It consisted in soaking all of Joffrey's pens and other objects that he had on the desk and all over the office with invisible ink. It hadn't been difficult to get his hands on it, and afterwards he had poured it into a vaporizer and he had gone around the office spraying everything. What he wanted was for Joffrey to get his fingers stained with the invisible ink so that when he went and entered the password on the keyboard of the safe the blacklight would show which numbers had been pulsed. Then the tricky thing would be figuring the right order in which the numbers had been pulsed, but that was another matter entirely. What Sandor needed was the numbers, and he needed them urgently.

Everyday, whenever Joffrey wasn't in the mansion, Sandor checked for fingerprints, but unfortunately Joffrey hadn't been opening the safe in the last two weeks. Everyday Sandor illuminated the surface of the keyboard in the safe with the blacklight, and everyday there was nothing. He didn't give up and he kept spraying the pens and other small objects that Joffrey might touch with the invisible ink, hoping that soon Joffrey would open the damn safe for some reason and leave his fucking fingerprints there.

Today was no exception. As soon as Joffrey left to an event that he had that morning, taking along with him his mother and his siblings, Sandor went to the office. He had lost count of how many times he had searched for fingerprints without success, and he was starting to feel desperate. There weren't any improvements in Sansa's situation, and Sandor had to find the fucking murder weapon to get her out of there forever. They couldn't do it without proof that would send Joffrey to jail for life, and Sandor wanted to punch the wall when he saw that his efforts were having no results.

"Fucking hells!" he hissed while he put the portrait back in its place on the wall. He didn't hear the footsteps approaching to the office, but he did hear the door opening. He wasn't startled because he knew that it could not be Joffrey, so he though that it was Sansa who had walked into the office. However, he immediately saw that he was wrong, and he frowned when he saw Rickon Stark standing there looking at him with great curiosity and a frown that probably mirrored the bodyguard's.

"Is everything okay?" the younger Stark sibling asked then, breaking the short-lived silence between them. Sandor nodded, but Rickon did not look very convinced. "I heard you cursing."

"Yeah, everything is fine," Sandor rasped, but he noticed how the young lad's gaze moved towards the portrait.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing-"

"Don't lie," Rickon hissed, taking Sandor by surprise. Never before had he ever heard Rickon Stark talking to him (or to anyone else, for that matter) in such a way, with so much aggressiveness and violence and anger within his voice. Not only that, but also that violence and hatred reached his eyes, turning them into a dark pool of shadows. Very few things made Sandor feel uncomfortable; the look on Rickon Stark's eyes in that moment was one of them.

Sandor sighed, defeated. He couldn't hide what he was doing from Rickon. After all, he was deeply also involved in that mess, because he also needed to be rescued from Joffrey.

"The murder weapon..." Sandor started saying, catching Rickon's attention. "The one that killed your father. I believe it's hidden in the safe behind this safe."

If he expected Rickon to be surprised he was disappointed. There wasn't a single grave of shock or disbelief or confusion in the youth's expression, only sharp understanding. Rickon gave a little nod, all the while without taking his eyes off the portrait.

"Can you open it?" he asked.

"I'm trying," Sandor answered. He showed Rickon the blacklight and told him about the plan that he had of getting the password with Joffrey's fingerprints with the invisible ink. Rickon listened with attention, not wanting to miss a single detail, and he nodded when Sandor was done telling him the plan.

"Is there anybody helping you?" he wanted to know.

"Yes. He's waiting for the evidence to unmask Joffrey."

"Can he be trusted?"

Sandor hesitated for a moment before rasping: "Do we have any other option?"

Rickon didn't say anything at first, but he did set his gaze on Sandor again. His eyes were cold, calculating, angry, defiant. Sandor felt like he was in the middle of some sort of pulse with the youngest Stark sibling until the lad finally talked again.

"I guess not," he murmured. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not for now," Sandor said. He did not want to get Sansa's brother involved even more in that mess, that would just out him in more danger than he already was. It was one thing to risk his own life, it was what he had to do for Sansa's and his unborn child's sake, but he could not let Rickon risk his life as well. Sansa had lost too many members of her family already. Rickon did not seem to take the answer to his question too well, for he seemed to be about to protest, so Sandor spoke before Rickon could say anything. "But the day might come when I will need some help."

"Ok. Tell me if that ever happens." Without another word Rickon turned around and walked out if the office. Sandor lingered behind for a few seconds, making sure that everything was exactly as it had been when he walked into the place, and then he also left.

 

Time passed. Weeks passed. Every single day Sandor snook into the presidential office and checked the safe for fingerprints, but Joffrey was still not going anywhere near it. Sandor was starting to feel desperate, but he didn't give up. He knew that the moment he gave up they would lose their only chance, and so he kept trying, again and again and again. He wouldn't give up hope if that meant that he could bring Sansa's nightmare to an end. While he waited to get the damn fingerprints to figure out the password of the safe, he kept contact with Varys, and he knew that the man was doing his own research and finding out more proof against Joffrey. Sandor didn't know how the man did it, but Varys managed to discover all of Joffrey'd dirty little secrets. The only thing that was left was the damn knife, and Varys could not get his hands on it on his own... Patience was all that was left to them.

But looking for the fingerprints was not the only thing that had Sandor's attention those days. As time passed, Sansa's pregnancy became more advanced. Sandor was fascinated with the way in which Sansa's belly grew, becoming more swollen and round, now really showing that an new life was growing inside of her. Sandor really had to keep himself in check so as to not stare at Sansa's belly like a fool whenever she was near him in other people's presence. Over a month had passed, and he still could not believe that Sansa was carrying his child, that she was going to make him a father. They had to stay strong for that baby, and fight until the very end to be able to give him (or her,) a better life. Sandor had vowed to himself that nothing, _nothing_ , would stand in the way of Sansa and their child and a happy life, no matter how many sacrifices he had to make to be able to make that happen.

Time was helping Sansa heal. The color returned to her face, and after many weeks she was able to smile again, though it was still hard. She was slowly coming out if her state of desperate grieving and coming to terms with the fact that half her family was gone. She was going on and about her life as normally as she could, and fought to put a smile on her face and enjoy the moments that she could spend with the loved ones that she had left. It made Sandor admire her even more than he had before, and he very much doubted that there was a stronger person than her in the entire world.

He was aware of the plan that Sansa had with Gendry to take Bran and Ned out of the country. Rickon, for some goddamn reason, had insisted on staying behind, but at least two Starks would be safe. It had been almost a month since Sansa made that deal with Gendry, and he was going to execute it in about a week from then. It had taken all that time to come up with a safe day and a safe way to take Bran and Ned away, for it was a very dangerous thing, what they were doing... After all, that was exactly the same plan that Robb Stark had had to take Sansa to safety, and they all knew how that had ended... Sansa was extremely nervous, but she also knew that Gendry had everything under control, whereas Robb had rushed everything and besides, Joffrey was going to kill him either way in the end.

Luckily for all of them, Joffrey's new position as President kept him so busy everyday that sometimes they didn't see him at all the whole day, which made Sandor and all the Starks living in the Red Keep mansion immensely happy and actually allowed Sansa to have some peaceful moments. That morning Joffrey was meeting with some senators, and the peace of the mansion was further increased when Cersei left to visit some of her friends. No one was visiting, which meant that only the Starks, Tommen, Myrcella, and their bodyguards were in the mansion.

Sandor couldn't be seen too frequently around Sansa when he was not in duty, so he avoided the library (the place where she was spending the morning) as much as he could, but at one point he couldn't help it anymore and he walked into the library, pretending that he was looking for a book to read. From the corner of his eye he saw that Sansa had raised her gaze from the book she was reading and was now slightly smiling at him, which made him smile in return. Sansa had been a lot better around him lately, smiling more frequently, which took a weight off his shoulders. If he has had to see her feeling miserable one more day he would have broken somebody's jaw, and he was happy that she had started feeling better.

He kept pretending to be searching for a book, when in reality he was watching Sansa, who had gone back to reading. She was wearing a navy blue jumper that kept her warn and hid her body, but still her round belly was very noticeable. Sansa was very thin (and it appeared that she had lost a lot of weight since the plane crash,) and she was only five months pregnant, but the baby was big, and so her round belly made her look like she was more pregnant than she really was. Sansa's belly grew so fast that at first Sandor feared that she might be carrying twins (which, truth be told, would be awful for the situation that they were in,) but when Sansa went to have an ultrasound made it was confirmed that she was carrying only one very big baby.

Sansa didn't want to know the gender of the baby. Sandor was extremely curious, but he couldn't know if Sansa didn't tell him, and Sansa wanted to keep the gender a surprise because, according to her, it would be the only nice surprise that she had had in years, and so Sandor didn't bug her with his curiosity, he could keep waiting for four more months.

He was about to finally pick a book and sit down in one of the couched to read when suddenly Myrcella made an appearance in the library. He appearance was so unexpected that it startled Sansa, almost making her drop her book. Myrcella smiled at her.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, aware that she had scared her sister-in-law. Sansa gave her a little smiled in return. Myrcella crossed the library towards where Sansa was sitting down, and only then she noticed Sandor's presence. She greeted him cheerfully, to which he only responded with a nod, and then the girl turned her attention back again to Sansa. "I've had an idea!"

"Really? And what's that?"

"Well, it would be nice for you to leave the mansion sometime..." Myrcella started saying, "and well, you have a baby on the way so I was thinking that maybe we could go baby shopping? Together?"

That suggestion took Sandor as much by surprise as Sansa, who blinked several times while looking at her young and always smiling sister-in-law.

"Baby shopping?" she repeated, as if the words were foreign to her.

"Yes! The baby is going to need such a lot of things! We could get a stroller, a crib, baby clothes, onesies, toys..." Myrcella listed, trying to convince Sansa into agreeing. "Come on, it will be fun!"

"I-I don't know, Myrcella..." Sansa said, and the girl's expression changed a little bit. Her shoulders dropped and she reached out to take Sansa's hand in hers. There was concern in her eyes.

"Sansa, I know that you are not happy here. You haven't been yourself since that happened, but you don't want to be here, in this house," Myrcella murmured, once again surprising both Sandor and Sansa. She was more perceptive than they had thought her to be. "And I know that you don't want to be around my brother. You are not happy with him."

"Myrcella..." Sansa started saying, but she was once again interrupted by the younger girl, who rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, Sansa, don't even try to pretend that I'm wrong. It's obvious that you are not happy with Joff, otherwise you wouldn't have cheated on him!"

The way in which she shut up right then and her eyes became wide as plates revealed that it hadn't been her intention to blurt that last bit out. The library was suddenly so silent that you could hear a pin drop, and Sansa just remained there seated on the couch looking at her sister-in-law with a half-shocked half-blank expression on her face, while Myrcella just awkwardly waited in silence to see if she should continue speaking or wait for Sansa to say something, and Sandor looked at the wall pretending like he wasn't there and he hadn't heard anything.

 _Well, she got that right alright,_ he thought.

When Myrcella saw that Sansa wasn't going to say anything she sighed and dropped her shoulders.

"Sansa, I really don't know what's been going on between you too, and I'm not sure that I wanna know, but I do know that getting out of here for a few hours will do you a lot of good. So... please?" she said, pulling the biggest, brightest, sweetest and most angelic smile that she could muster. In the end Sansa ended up smiling softly and giving in.

"Sure, why not," she said, shrugging. Myrcella clapped her hands and almost jumped into the sore with excitement.

"Great! I'll go tell the chauffeur to get the cars ready! And I'll tell Rickon, he wanted to come too!" Before Sansa had the chance to say anything else to Myrcella, the blonde girl had already run out of the library and was on her way to do what she had just said that she was going to do, leaving behind a very stunned Sansa and Sandor that could only stare in silence at the door with amazement, and then they stared at each other.

"What the hell?" Sandor muttered, being faster than Sansa in breaking the silence.

Sansa giggled, and Sandor stiffened. Sansa hadn't giggled in weeks, and it was like music to his ears. Maybe the whole ordeal of going baby-shopping would turn out to be a great idea after all, if it put Sansa in a good mood.

"This should be fun," she murmured, putting her book away. She put one hand on the couch to push herself to stand up, but Sandor was immediately in front of her and taking her hand with his own, gently helping her up. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Thank you. It's getting hard to move around as much as before with this little guy in here," she said, looking down at her round belly. Sandor followed her gaze, and hesitantly reached out with his hand to place it on her swollen stomach. Halfway through the movement he froze, feeling insecure, and he was about to pull his hand back when suddenly Sansa took it with her own, and she moved Sandor's hand so that it rested gently on her belly.

He had touched Sansa's belly innumerable times, but now that she was so pregnant the sensation was unique every time that he touched her. Even though he gently rubbed her belly very often to feel his child growing in her, every time felt different. He couldn't describe the feelings that overcame him; every time it was as of he was realizing for the first time ever that he was going to be a father, that that was his child growing inside Sansa. Seeing her growing everyday was one thing, but touching her and actually feeling the baby's heartbeat... There were no words to describe it.

 _I've finally become a mindless fool,_ Sandor thought to himself after experimenting such emotions. He couldn't tear his eyes off Sansa. He didn't want to stop touching Sansa nor move away from her. He just didn't want to, not ever.

"This will be fun," Sansa said then, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Shopping for the baby, I mean. I hadn't thought about it before but it is something that I want to do. And I do have to do it at some point, so..."

"You don't even know what sex the baby is. How are you going to pick the colors?" Sandor asked, remembering that most parents picked babies' stuff in pick or blue depending on the gender. Except Cersei Lannister. When she bought stuff for her children many years ago she got everything in crimson and golden, and occasionally some green.

"I'll pick neutral colors," Sansa replied with a smile. "It's... strange. I'm finally feeling kind of excited over something for the first time in weeks."

"That's a good thing," Sandor pointed out.

"I know! It's just that well, it feels a little weird. I didn't know that I could smile again, but you and this baby are making it happen quite often lately."

"Well, I'm glad," Sandor said sincerely. He lived to make Sansa happy, and the smile on her face said that she knew it.

"Come, let's go," she murmured. She stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the lips now that they were alone in the library. Then she walked out of the place while Sandor stayed behind for a moment, watching her leaving with a smile on his face. He chuckled, and then he followed her.

 

Sandor couldn't believe that he had willingly been dragged into that place. He was used to having to stand aside still like a statue while the people that he was escorting shopped around him, but he had never been dragged to a store for babies' stuff. He had not only gone there as a bodyguard, but also to accompany Sansa due that the baby was his; he wanted to share every moment that he could with her, but holy hell was he getting bored... There wasn't anything interesting around him that could drag his attention, everything was stuff for babies only (obviously!). And it was not as of he could give his opinion on which things should be bought or not because he was supposed to simply be the bodyguard and that was it.

Sansa and Myrcella had been accompanied by Rickon, Bran, and Ned (who they couldn't leave just alone at the mansion). The two younger Stark siblings didn't look like the kind of people who would usually go to those mind of places, but they had wanted to accompany their sister in that moment and get stuff for their nephew or niece. Besides, Bran was already aware that he was going to be leaving soon and he wanted to spend as much time with his siblings as possible, for who knew when he would see them again. Sansa, Bran and Ned were looking at baby clothes while Myrcella and Rickon checked out the cribs and chatted. Myrcella looked rather blushed, and Sandor couldn't help but look at the two youths with a raised eyebrow.

 _Seven hells, not those two now..._ he mentally groaned.

A flash caught his attention from the corner of his eye, making him turn towards the great window of the store. Of course, news had quickly spread that the Starks were there, and paparazzi had immediately appeared at the place with their demonic cameras ready to take thousands of pictures and be a royal pain in the ass. This time Sandor groaned loudly.

_Seriously? Can't they fuck off for once?_

Resisting a huge urge to give all the paparazzi the finger, Sandor turned away from the window and focused his attention on Sansa, who was still looking at the baby clothes as if the paparazzi weren't there at all. She was trying to find baby onesies in neutral colors but that were still cute, which was proving to be a bit difficult. She picked one and held it up for her companions (and Sandor) to see. It was a white onesie with little yellow chicks on it.

"What do you think?" she asked. While her brothers hesitated, she moved her gaze to Sandor. He slowly shook his head in an almost imperceptible way. There was no way in hell that he would allow his child to be dressed in that! Sansa caught the message and out the white onesie down before her brothers even said anything, and she picked up another one. It was pale green, with happy kittens of all colors on it. "And what about this one?"

Sandor coughed loudly. _Kittens?! **Kittens?!**_ Nope. Just, no. His child would not be dressed with something that had cat's offspring on it! Those things were the devil's spawn and he hated them! Dogs were a thousand times better!

As if she had read his mind, Sansa out that onesie down and picked up a new one. This time it was yellow, and it had puppies' faces on it. Her expression lit up.

"Ooh! I like this one!" she exclaimed, and she subtly looked over at Sandor to see what he thought.

That was much better, and Sandor actually liked it. He gave a slight nod of his head, and he winked at Sansa. Her smile became broader.

"I'll buy it!" she announced.

"Cool," Rickon said, approving her choice. "What else are you going to get?"

"Well, more clothes of course!"

"Then you should get this," Rickon said, showing his sister a white baby shirt with black dog paws. He winked at his sister and then gazed at Sandor for a second and grinned at him, and Sandor fought back the urge to laugh. Sansa immediately grabbed the onesie and took it away from her brother, adding it to the pile of things that she already knew that she was going to definitely buy. "Maybe you should get him a cute little hat that goes with it," Rickon added, still smirking. "You know, with dog ears, or something."

Sansa picked some more clothes for her baby, which Rickon took from her so that she didn't have to carry anything, and them she went to look at baby shoes. Sandor had always been amused by the size of those things; babies' feet were so tiny! They were smaller than the tip of his thumb. _So delicate..._ He had taken care of babies before and held them and watched over them, but they had never been his babies. Now they were shopping stuff for his son or daughter, and after seeing those shoes he imagine how little the baby would be, and he felt _terrified_. How was he going to defend and protect such a previous and delicate little thing from the evil that surrounded them?

 _Don't think about this now, enjoy the moment!_ he scolded himself, and continued following Sansa around the store while pretended that he was completely indifferent to what was going on around him.

After the shoes, Sansa spent about half an hour looking at the cribs, but in the end she couldn't decide which one she liked most so they all agreed to look another day for the perfect one. Sandor didn't know why they were making such a fuss over a crib, but if that was important to Sansa he wasn't one to complain. He could see that she was really enjoying herself at that place, and it was nice. Joy was a hard thing to find those days, and Sansa hadn't stopped smiling since the moment they got there. At that moment she was looking at some blankets. Some of them had letters on them, like initials.

"Have you decided what you want to name him?" Ned asked all of a sudden. He was standing next to Sansa looking at the blankets. He had been awfully quiet the whole time, and that was the first time that he spoke. Sansa looked at him, surprised at first to finally hear her nephew talking, but then she smiled gently.

"Well, if it's a bit I was thinking that I would like to name him Logan. Or Lorcan. Those are the names that I have always liked."

"They are cool names.I like Logan better, like that I could nickname him Wolverine," Ned said. He always had a superhero reference for everything. "You know, the guy from X-men."

"Yeah, I know. Your aunt Arya used to watch that with you the whole time."

"She did," Ned murmured. "So yeah, my vote is on Logan. And what if it's a girl?"

"If it's a girl I also like two names, Katherine and Celine. What do you think?"

"Ooh, I like those names!" Myrcella exclaimed, and Bran and Rickon agreed.

"Me too," Ned nodded, and he managed to crack a smile, which made everyone almost gasp. While everybody else had managed to find some random happy moments since tragedy struck the Stark family, Ned hadn't smiled one single time since then. Talking about his future cousin made him smile. "How will you choose which one to put the baby if it's a girl?"

"I suppose that it will depend on what she looks like," Sansa murmured with a soft gleam in her eyes. The excitement in her heart was really visible in her at that moment. She wanted her child with her right that moment in her arms, she couldn't wait. She wasn't scared anymore now; for a moment she was just an eager mother that couldn't wait a single day more to meet her child. "I will know when I see her."

"Or him," Bran pointed out.

"Exactly," Sansa laughed. "I guess we'll find out in four months!"

Sandor remained silent the whole time, as if he wasn't there, just listening to Sansa and her brother and her nephew and Myrcella talking about his child, unable to join the conversation or state his opinion. He didn't have much of an opinion, truth be told, but it would be nice if he could at least say something. He might have if only the Starks had been there, but with Myrcella there and the clerks and the paparazzi taking pictures and practically banging on the windows of the store he couldn't risk doing anything suspicious. His only role there was as a bodyguard, and he had to keep his mouth shut.

The last thing that Sansa looked at was toys. There were some really cute stuffed animals in the store, and she got the classical teddy bear. Rickon insisted that they should buy the stuffed chihuahua too, but Sansa refused between laughs, and Rickon stopped insisting when Sandor actually glared at him.

Rickon and Myrcella took everything and they went to pay for all the items. Bran left with Ned, who wanted to check some books in the library next door, and Sansa left the store with Sandor when she started feeling a little tired. Sandor yelled at the paparazzi and they immediately stepped back, afraid of him, and the bodyguard and Sansa made their way to the parked limousine with black tinted windows that shielded them from the camera flashes.

They were alone in the limo; the chauffeur had left to smoke a cigar in the street, and the others were still in the store and in the library, along with the other bodyguards that had come with them. Sansa and Sandor sat across each other in the limo, and for a moment there was silence between them. Sansa closed her eyes and relaxed on the spacious limo seat, tired after having been standing up for so long, and Sandor suddenly broke the silence.

"So... Lorcan, Logan, Katherine, and Celine?" he asked, remembering the names that Sansa had said back in the store. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Oh! Sorry, I should have asked you first!" she apologized, and Sandor chuckled. "You should have a say in this! Those are only the names that I've always liked, but if you don't like them-"

"I like them," he said, and Sansa smiled a little.

"You do?" she asked, sounding relieved. Sandor nodded.

"Aye. I like them." It was true, he did like them. Back in the store he had just wished that he could say those words out loud instead of having to shut up, but now he could voice his opinion to Sansa and that was all that mattered.

Sansa smiled, and her eyes gleamed the same way that they did back in the store. She looked like she was glowing, and she looked beautiful.

The limo door opened suddenly, and Rickon stepped inside the long vehicle alone and sat next to his sister. He was carrying a lot of bags with him that he put down at his feet, and then he leaned back and sighed. Myrcella had stayed behind looking at something in another ship, and Bran and Ned were still in the library. There was silence once again, and Rickon stared at Sandor and Sansa once again. For some reason they avoided his narrowed gaze, as if they were two children that had done something bad and did not want to be caught, and it felt awkward. Sandor guessed that it was because he had been super close to getting close to Sansa to kiss her quickly before her younger brother interrupted.

But Rickon always seemed to know everything about everyone. He sighed again, and gave them a knowing look.

"Oh, go at it, there's no one here yet," he said. Sansa looked extremely confused but his words, and she gasped when Sandor suddenly stood up and got closer to her and pulled her closer to him and kissed her. She stiffened for a second, but then she relaxed and gave in to the kiss before kissing him back. None of them could see Rickon rolling his eyes. He spoke again, jokingly this time. "You two are gross."

Sansa chuckled against Sandor's mouth, and he kissed her harder. He had to make every second count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already decided what the baby and the name are going to be, but you can tell me your guesses! ^.^


	52. Put On Your War Paint.

The King's Lansing airport was crowded that day, as usually. Gendry sat down near the gate of his flight, which was still not letting in any passengers, so they all had to wait. It was nerve-wracking, and which each passing minute Gendry felt himself getting even more anxious and paranoid. He tried to keep it cool so that his behavior wouldn't be suspicious to the people around him, from every once in a while he looked around, expecting to see his half-brother or someone sent by him to retrieve them. It had taken months since Sansa asked him to take Bran and Ned away to carry out the plan. It wasn't very complicated but they had to be careful, seeing how catastrophic the last escape attempt from Joffrey that someone had attempted had ended up being, because Joffrey was not someone that let go of his prey easily. And that was what he considered the Starks to be: his prey.

Gendry had been extremely careful with everything since the moment when he agreed to do what Sansa asked to him, not wanting anything to give them away. He had needed to include other people in his escape plan, but they were all of his complete trust. First of all, in order to get out of the country Bran and Ned needed new passports with completely new identities. Gendry couldn't forge the fake documents himself, for that would surely be a disaster, but he did know the perfect person to help him; and old friend of his uncle Stannis, Davos Seaworth. Because of his past lifestyle full of criminal activities when he always managed to avoid the hands of justice, Davos was the perfect person to help Gendry create new identities for Bran and Ned. As a result, Bran was now Matthew Madden and Ned was James Harington, a little boy who was travelling with his father (one of the most trusted and loyal bodyguards that the Stark family had) to Europe. Gendry had decided that it would be better to keep Bran and Ned separated during the trip, even if was just a little bit so that it would be harder to recognize them. Many of the bodyguards that the Starks had were travelling with them and were scattered around the plane in different seats to keep an eye on the two Starks for their safety. Also, as an extra precaution, Bran had slightly changed his appearance. Joffrey had left the red keep mansion very early that day for meetings with politicians, as usual, which had given the two Starks an opportunity to leave early as well and without being spotted by the Lannisters. Bran and Ned had said goodbye to Sansa and Rickon and then they had left with Bran. In the hours previous to the flight Bran had gotten a haircut and had dyed his hair dark brown, because his auburn hair was very recognizable. Besides, the fact that he was on a wheelchair made him even more recognizable, unfortunately, so it was better to minimalize the risks. He was also hiding his Tully eyes behind dark brown contacts, so whoever saw him at that moment would say that he was just some random 23-year-old dude travelling to the other side of the world for no reason in particular. Ned didn't get his hair dyed but he did get a quick haircut and put on a pair of glasses. He was wearing a hoodie that hid his hair and helped make him unnoticeable. So far, everything was perfect.

Gendry was travelling with his real identity because he had been a public figure for far too long to try to hide himself successfully, and it wasn't the first time that he had to travel all of a sudden. He could just pretend that he was on a business trip and everything would be all right. He was just there to accompany Bran and Ned and make sure that the plan worked out to perfection up until the very end, and once they were in Europe he would leave them in charge of their great-uncle Brynden Tully. The man had travelled to France weeks ahead and was now in Ireland, in Dublin, also with a new and fake identity. Once they arrived at their destiny Bran and Ned would get a second fake identity with surnames that matched Brynden's, so that they could pretend to be a normal family in the middle of Dublin, where they had purchased a little house where they could live peacefully.

Gendry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax. His heart beat furiously inside his chest, making him feel as if it would tear right through his skin at any moment. He was sweating, terrified that something would go wrong, that he would fail Sansa. He had promised her that he would keep her brother and nephew safe, but it was too risky. Joffrey had turned into a very dangerous monster that no one could escape, and Gendry didn't know why he thought that he could do what Sansa had failed at so many times already. He never thought that he would ever be so terrified of his own half-brother, but Gendry felt genuinely afraid. After what had happened to Eddard Stark, and to Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark, Talisa Maegyr and Theon Greyjoy (and possibly other people that they didn't know about) Gendry was terrified that he would suffer the same destiny for trying to help…

 _I have to do this for Arya,_ he realized then, and he opened his eyes. Arya had also been a victim of Joffrey, because he had massacred her family and forced her to turn into a killing machine. Joffrey was the reason why Arya had been taken away from Gendry. Arya had suffered and immense pain because of Arya, so Gendry owed it to her. He owed it to her to keep his promise and save at least part of the only family that she had left.

_I have to do this… I **will** do this._

Gendry took a deep breath once again. He convinced himself that everything would be all right. Joffrey was a psychopath and a monster, but he wasn't an idiot. He might have taken down Presendent Stark's private jet, and Gendry thought him capable of doing the same to the plane that they were about to board… But Joffrey wouldn't be so stupid so as to crash or blow up a commercial plane full of international passengers just mere months after the President's ' _accident'._ Doing that would only raise a lot of suspicion- more so than the suspicion that already existed in a lot of people's minds. Sansa's little stunt in the funeral had caused more than one to think that there was something very shady in that whole situation- and probably an investigation would start. Joffrey could hide the truth from his own citizens, but not from the entire world. What would happen if he killed all those foreign people and he was discovered? Joffrey wouldn't risk war, or at least that was what Gendry hoped.

Soon they would start boarding the plane. Gendry shot a brief glance at Bran and Ned, and then he looked at the people that walked past them in the airport. He had always entertained himself in airports by looking at all the people around him and wondering where they came from, where they were going, why... There were so many possibilities! Sometimes he observed them and came to his own conclusions. There were the obvious people traveling for business with suitcases, entire families of excited tourists, people that were disappointed to have to leave... The worst part was seeing how some people said goodbye to their families and loved ones before entering the security control that would separate them. Gendry always found it awful to see how people cried when they departed, and he wondered what reasons were there behind those goodbyes. Sometimes children were leaving to study abroad for a long time and would be very far away from home trying to build a future for themselves. Sometimes parents were forced to leave their families behind to be able to look for something better. Sometimes there were personal reasons behind it all. It didn't matter what is was, but there was nothing worse that a painful and sad goodbye. On the other hand, Gendry sometimes found hope in airports, in the arrivals. Just as there was nothing worse than a goodbye, there was nothing better than a reunion, and watching people emerge from those gates and running to the arms of those that were waiting for them...

He was thinking about all those things when suddenly he saw something among the crowd of people that immediately caught his attention. There, in the distance, surrounded by dozens of people that walked all around her without paying her the slightest attention, was a woman. She was short, a chin-length locks of brown hair crowned her face. She wasn't looking at him, so Gendry couldn't see her face, but the way in which she was standing which her hands inside the pockets of her black jacket and with the hood of a dark grey sweater over her head was so familiar...

He stood up all of a sudden and he took a few steps forward rather quickly, startling the people sitting next to him. From the corner of his eye he could see Bran and the bodyguards shooting him curious and confused glances, but he ignored them. He wanted to run to that woman and shout her name to make her look at him, but he couldn't do that! That would only draw a lot of unwanted attention towards him. Besides, it couldn't be her... Arya had been missing for three years, and Sansa had told him that she had joined the Faceless Men. Arya was very far away from there.

Even though he was aware of that, Gendry still wanted the woman to turn her head and look at him, just so that he could finally confirm that she wasn't Arya and he could continue with his journey in peace.

It looked like she was about to turn around, and Gendry felt his heart beating incredibly fast inside his chest again, just as before, waiting for the woman's eyes to find him. However, that did not happen. A large group of people walked in front of the woman, blocking her from Gendry's sight. He closed his hands into tight fists and waited for those people to move away, but when they walked away the woman wasn't there anymore.

Gendry looked around all over the place, trying to see where he had gone, but it was in vain. The woman had disappeared.

 _It wasn't her,_ he told himself in his mind. He had never before felt so disappointed in his entire life. _It wasn't her... She's not here. It wasn't her..._

He didn't want to listen to his own mind, there wasn't a place in his heart for reason. He just knew that that woman had reminded him so much of Arya, the love of his life, the person that he missed _so much_ that it hurt deep inside of him. He wanted to start running in the direction in which she had been to see if he could try to find her. He would have done it had it not been because business class passengers were called to board the plane at that moment, and he remembered the whole plan. He had to keep out of trouble and deliver Bran and Ned safely to Europe, to their uncle. There wasn't time to follow a vision.

 _It wasn't her,_ he bitterly told himself once more before turning around and heading towards the gate.

Once they were inside the plane Gendry sat on his seat in business class, 6D. He always travelled in business class so it wouldn't make sense that he didn't this time. He knew that it would be better that Bran and Ned were not too close to where he was, so Ned was sitting with his bodyguard in seat 1A, not too far from Gendry but just enough, and Bran was sitting in the very first seat of tourist class with his bodyguards. Now Gendry was only praying so that no one recognized any of them and did something stupid like tweeting something about them being on the plane. Gendry couldn't wait for the plane to take off, and he felt like each minute was a century.

While the other passengers boarded Gendry got up and walked to the bathroom. He didn't particularly enjoy flying and he did not want to get up during the flight, and also he needed to throw some water on his face to refresh himself and calm down. He didn't notice the person walking behind him towards the bathroom...

When Gendry reached the bathrooms he saw that one of them was already occupied, but the other one wasn't. He had just opened the door when suddenly he was pushed inside the tiny bathroom by someone behind him. He almost tripped and crashed against the sink, and he tried to turn around to see who had pushed him like that and why.

" _Hey!_ " he started exclaiming angrily when he saw that whoever had pushed him had entered the bathroom with him and had locked the door. Gendry was about to start shouting, but he couldn't, because suddenly the person that had pushed him and locked the door had turned around, and now Arya Stark was fiercely kissing him in the mouth.

For about five seconds Gendry was completely in shock. He didn't understand what was happening. Arya was there, in the plane, kissing him. None of it made any sense! What was happening?!

But then Gendry realized that he didn't care at all if nothing made sense. _Arya was there, **with him.**_

Unable to stop himself, he threw his arms around her and kissed her back, with thrice the passion and intensity with which she was kissing him. He put a hand on the small of her back and the other hand on the back of her head, and he pulled her against him as much as was humanly possible. Arya didn't protest; in fact for a moment Gendry thought that a lot of tension was leaving Arya's body and that she relaxed, as if she had been nervous or afraid of that moment. That made Gendry laugh in the back of his head. Arya was never afraid of anything. If anything he was the one that was always afraid of everything, and at that moment he was shaking as if he was in the middle of an earthquake. He was afraid that he would open his eyes and he would discover that his mind had been playing a sick trick on him, he was afraid to wake up from the fantasy and find that Arya wasn't there... But she was. It was real, everything was real!

It was almost impossible telling where one of them ended and the other one began. It was impossible to tell both people apart. They were joined together by their passionate kiss, which turned deeper and deeper as time seconds passed and they let their passion consume them like flames lighting a bonfire. Their tongues danced together the dance of two lovers separated long ago by terrible evil and reunited at last. Gendry tasted Arya's lips, her mouth, and realized that she was more intoxicating than the best and most expensive liquor in the whole world. He was addicted to her, and he wondered how on Earth he had survived without her that long without going mad. His hands roamed her body over the fabric of her black jacket, and he felt spark going through his veins when Arya's fingers got tangled in his hair and pulled gently from it to bring him closer to her.

The tiny little bathroom was filled the the sounds of their heavy breathing, of their kisses and of the moans that sounded deep in the back of their throats. Gendry was sure that if anyone was standing outside the bathroom waiting they would be scandalized, but he didn't give a damn. He kissed Arya fiercely, devouring her, and he smiled against her mouth when he felt her playfully and sensually biting his lower lip. Arya's hands wandered down his body, all the way from his hair down to his abdomen, and they slid under both his shirt. Gendry groaned in the back of his throat when he felt Arya's cold fingers grazing his burning skin. He moved forward and made Arya's back crash against the locked door of the bathroom, making it shake, and trapping the woman's body between it and his own heated body.

The kiss lasted longer than any kiss that Gendry could remember. He just couldn't bring himself to separate himself from Arya, even if it was to take a short breath. He had never felt so irrational or impulsive in any moment of his life, but at that moment he just wanted Arya, and nothing more. He wanted to rip his and Arya's clothes off take her right there and then and take her, but he had at least a little bit of sense left to know that he couldn't so that. But he could keep kissing her, and he did so until Arya stopped him, pressing her hands against his chest and moving her head back, breaking the kiss. For Gendry it felt as if a tsunami had just hit him. He didn't want to move away from her.

"There's no time," Arya suddenly said, sounding a bit rough for a second. Her expression softened then, and she stared at him directly in the eyes, and the cupped his face with her hands in an almost gentle way. It was the first time that Gendry had heard her voice in three years, and he thought that it was just as he remembered. Or was it? She sounded a bit different, truth be told, harsher and stronger. He guessed that that was not the only thing that had changed in her in all that time. "I'm sorry," she whispered then.

He frowned. Why was she apologizing? For ending that kiss? He didn't understand, Arya didn't have to apologize to him for that...

And then he understood. She wasn't apologizing for the kiss, she was apologizing for everything else. Her disappearance without saying goodbye, those long years that she had spent away without ever contacting him, the death of his uncle Renly... But Gendry didn't want Arya to apologize for any of those things, they weren't her fault.

"Arya, it's ok..." he started saying, but she wouldn't let him finish.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "I should have told you where I was, I should have let you know what was going on..."

"Your sister told me," he informed her. It was true that he did wish that Arya had trusted him enough three years ago to let him know where she was going and why so that he could at least have stopped being worried sick that something terrible had happened to her. Up until the day of his uncle Renly's funeral, when Sansa had told him that she had seen Arya in King's Landing, he had been afraid every day that the police would call him to tell him that they had found his girlfriend dead somewhere in the middle of nowhere. "Where have you been? Sansa said that she didn't know where you were, that the last time she saw you was years ago..."

"It's a long story... I know that Sansa told you about me. I was with the Faceless Men and I was trapped in india and then in Siberia and... Gods, Gendry, I'm sorry that you had to find out everything so suddenly. It must have been hard for you, knowing what your brother has done-"

"He's not my brother," Gendry hissed. He had always treated Joffrey politely because they shared half of their genes, but he wanted nothing to do with that monster anymore. Just knowing that he shared that man's blood made his own blood boil in his veins, and he breathed heavily.

Arya didn't say anything, she just stared at him while Gendry closed his eyes and let his anger burn away. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Arya's, and for a couple of second he focused only in their closeness, in the sound of her breathing, in the way in which her fingers felt against his skin... It was like Heaven, and also like a little bit of Hell, because Gendry knew that that moment would not last forever.

Suddenly, every cell in his body was screaming in agony with the realization of how much he had missed Arya. He was trembling slightly, and there was a salty taste on his lips... He hadn't noticed before, but he realized then that he had been crying silently ever since he realized that the woman that was inside the bathroom was Arya. He couldn't resist it and he kissed her again. The kiss was once again passionate, but it wasn't fierce like before. Instead it was soft and slow, but it made then burn with the same intensity as the previous kiss had. They pulled away from each other at the same time and they stared into each other's eyes. Gendry was surprised to feel Arya's storm-grey eyes full of remorse and guilt and sadness, but there was also a cold determination in them, mixed with something strong and fierce and... dangerous. That was not the same Arya that had left him three years ago, and he could tell. But deep down she was still his Arya, and that was enough.

"I didn't want to leave you," Arya murmured then. She spoke softly so that the people outside the bathroom in the plane wouldn't hear them. "But I didn't have a choice."

"You shouldn't have had to carry that weight in your shoulders," Gendry murmured, thinking about how heavy the burden of revenge must be.

"Someone had to," Arya said. "It had to be this way. Besides, I'm not the only one with a heavy weight on my shoulders. Sansa has been living a worse hell than mine, and I had to help her. I still have to."

"It's too dangerous."

"So is what you are doing! Taking Bran and Ned out of the country? That's insane, Joffrey could kill you!"

"I promised I would keep them safe," he told her, though he guessed that Arya already knew that. Otherwise how could she have known that he was going to be there in that plane with her brother and nephew? Gendry was sure that Arya's spying skills had given her all the knowledge that she needed to get to that place.

"I know. Thank you..." Arya said, sounding more thankful and relieved than ever. "Don't let anything happen to them, please. I can't lose them too."

"I won't, I promise," he said, taking her hands in his and squeezing a bit, trying to comfort her and let her know that he was speaking truly and planned to keep his promise. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Come with me."

He didn't need to say anything else, Arya knew what he meant. With a sad expression in her face she closed her eyes and shook her head briefly from side to side.

"I want to, but I can't. You know I can't."

"I know what you plan to do. You don't have to do it yourself, Arya, you can come with me and let another Faceless Man do it for you! I will pay whatever is necessary for them to do it, but please, Arya, come with me!"

"I like to keep my promises just as much as you do, Gendry," Arya hissed, and the sudden aggressiveness in her voice would have made Gendry take a step back if he could, but there wasn't enough room to do so. He saw Arya the assassin in that moment, not the normal Arya that everybody knew. The way in which her eyes darkened would be enough to make even the mightiest soldier cower in fear before her. "I promised my sister that I would take her away and that I would kill Joffrey, and I will do it myself. No one else will."

Gendry knew that he didn't have a chance to fight her on that, so he didn't even attempt it. He sighed, trying to accept Arya's will. It was difficult, he didn't want to let her go now that he had finally found her again. What if...- a shudder ran down his spine- what if something went wrong...? What if she was hurt?

Arya was able to read the worry in his expression, and she once again cupped his face with her hands. They had a gentle touch, but they were hard and calloused and strong: hands of a fighter.

"Everything will be ok," she assured him. "But you must promise me something. Promise me that you will stay as far away from the Lannisters as possible. Please. Stay away from Westeros if you can."

"Why?"

"Things are going to get ugly. This is so much bigger that we thought at first. The problem isn't only Joffrey..."

"I don't understand," Gendry was becoming more worried now. There was something in Arya's tone of voice that he didn't like.

"There is a group of people. A gang, an army, call them whatever you want. They follow a man, and that man wants Westeros no matter what it takes," Arya told him. Gendry's eyes became wide with worry. What was she talking about?! "I will be infiltrating that group tomorrow. If I work from the inside I can bring them down, and I can take Joffrey down at the same time."

"Are you crazy?! That's too much, they will kill you!" Gendry exclaimed, horrified, forgetting to keep his voice down. Arya quickly shook her head.

"I know what I'm doing, believe me. Please, Gendry, I need you to trust me. I will be fine. I will save my sister, and I will do my job. And then..." she smiled, and she tangled her fingers in his black hair once more, making him feel waves of pleasure traveling down his spine. He loved when she did that. Arya's eyes shine with a bright light when she said the next words, "and then we can be together again. I promise. I never break my promises."

"I know you don't," Gendry smiled softly. He was still extremely worried for her, and he couldn't hide that he was afraid.

"And please, listen to me. Though you never do, you stubborn bull-headed idiot..." Arya murmured, making both of them laugh under their breath briefly before they became serious again, "stay away, ok?"

"I will do what I can. I can't promise anything, though."

"And take care of my brother and nephew," Arya pleaded him.

"That, I can do," he said, nodding his head. He had already promised Sansa, and now he was promising Arya. As long as Bran and Ned were his responsibility nothing bad would happen to them. Over his dead body...

Arya was about to thank him, but she thought it better and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him instead. Gendry closed his eyes and enjoyed the kiss, even though he knew that it was a goodbye kiss... He remembered what he had been thinking before when he was waiting to board the plane, about reunions and goodbyes in airports. He had just experienced the best and happiest reunion of his life, but now he was going through the most painful goodbye of his life. He didn't want to let go of Arya, he didn't know how long it would be since he could see her again...

He didn't know how long they had been there, but if Arya was leaving she would have to do it soon before they closed the boarding gate and the plane took off. Maybe if Gendry managed to hold on to her and distract her long enough she wouldn't have to go, and then she would fly away with him and Bran and Ned to Europe... He was beginning to have hope again when Arya ended the kiss, but she didn't leave immediately. They pressed their foreheads together like they had done before, and Gendry though about everything that she had told him in the last minutes.

"War is coming..." he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Arya. She heard him and slowly shook her head.

"No," she whispered. Her voice was cold once again, and hard as steel. When they separated and he looked into her eyes he found a storm in them. "It has already begun."

And then, before Gendry could even say goodbye, Arya turned around, opened the door of the tiny plane bathroom, and just as quickly as she has arrived she left.


	53. Now There's Hell to Pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I was going to update a week ago, but so much stuff happened! I turned 19 (I started writing this story when I was 17!!), there were family reunions, and then I got sick (I lost my voice five days ago. Ugh. And I can't eat anything. Ugh.) But now I finally had time to write this!
> 
> This chapter has a part that was the most satisfying thing to write ever. And then I decided to be an evil bitch, because I can ;) No, seriously, this chapter was planned since over a year ago. It was difficult to write it, but here it is!
> 
> It you see awful mistakes blame my iPhone and tell me, please!
> 
> Happy reading!

They had been in the party for only an hour and Sansa already felt like she couldn't handle it anymore. Her in-laws were making her suffer through one of Cersei Lannister's famous fundraisers, and Sansa felt that she was already tired of it as soon as the party started. She didn't even know the reason for the fundraiser, all she knew was that it was one of her mother-in-law's many attempts to appear like a role model in the eyes of Westerosi society, and people were foolish enough to believe in the image that she wanted to give of herself. Sansa knew the truth well enough, though, but she had to shut up about it (as always) and smile during the party and pretend to be having the time of her life.

Usually she was more than capable of putting on the perfect mask and smile for the crowd at her husband's command, but that night it was proving to be a particularly difficult task. It wasn't only that she was sick and tired, she was also extremely nervous. She felt like her stomach was tied into a tight and messy knot, because at that moment her brother and nephew must have been flying over the Pacific Ocean with Gendry towards the east. So far she knew that everything was going according to the plan, or at least she hoped so. So far nothing had happened to make her believe that anything had gone wrong. However, she couldn't stop being nervous. Getting on that plane was only the first part of the escape; later they would be flying over the United States of America towards New York, and from there they would take a second flight to London, from where they would travel to wherever it was that Gendry wanted to take Ned and Bran. Sansa hadn't asked. The less she knew, the better.

Apart from being nervous and mentally tired of those events, she was also physically tired. Her pregnancy didn't allow her to endure parties and social events as well as before, and she found herself exhausted soon because of the weight if her baby in her womb and the tedious activity of the night. She was thankful that she was wearing flat shoes; it would have been a tragedy if she had had to love through that horrible fundraiser with killer heels, which she had sonde quite often in the past.

Even though her belly was big and round, Sansa was conscious that she was very beautiful and that people glanced at her with admiration and approval, specially men. She even caught some old and fat politicians looking at her with a poorly hidden shadow of desire in their eyes, and she had to make a big effort not to roll her eyes with annoyance. The only person that had made her happy with his compliments was Sandor when he had existed her from her bedroom to the mansion's enormous and magnificent ballroom. Sansa was wearing a long midnight blue evening gown with some crystals sown on the bodice, making it look like shining stars on a midnight sky. The dress was loose enough so that it would fall elegantly over Sansa's pregnant belly, but at the same time it accentuated her beauty. She was wearing her hair up in a complicated but elegant updo; her hair color contrasted beautifully with that of the dress, and her eyes looked bluer that ever. She was also wearing a small and elegant sapphire and diamond necklace and tiny diamond earrings. She had the sapphire earrings that her mother had given to her for her twenty-sixth birthday, which combined perfectly with the dress and the necklace, but she didn't want to wear them. She wanted to wear them on special occasions, not events like the one she was in at the moment.

Cersei Lannister was expecting to raise around five million Westerosi dragons at the fundraiser that night. The Lannisters had billions, they could just give it to her for whatever charity she wanted to donate the money to, but Sansa knew that Cersei would never spend her own money in a charity. If she ever spent five million dragons all at once it would be on herself. In the past Sansa would have loved the event that was happening that night. Everybody who was somebody was there. There were prestigious politicians, wealthy businessmen, world-wide known celebrities... Sansa personally knew quite a few of them, and she chatted with them when they approached her but avoided them as soon as she found an opportunity. She didn't feel like talking to anyone that night.

She had one small comfort, and it was that Joffrey was being kept very entertained and didn't have time to go bother her. He was spending the night talking to all the politicians and other people that he needed as allies and that could maybe help fund his campaign for the next elections. Sansa had feared at first that he would require her presence by his side, but he didn't, and she was extremely glad. She walked around the place, looking at the people in the fundraiser with a distant look in her eyes, trying to hide how annoyed and nervous she was. She was sure that she would be able to hit somebody to get her hands on an alcoholic beverage, but she was pregnant so she couldn't soothe her nerves with a drink.

She spotted her brother Rickon in the other side of the ballroom, but she didn't approach him because she saw that he was happily talking to Myrcella. Sansa couldn't help but think that they looked cute together, but deep down she hoped that they never became a couple. Myrcella wasn't guilty of her brother's crimes and shouldn't have to be punished or judged because of them, but Sansa didn't want the Starks to be even more tied to the Baratheon/Lannister family any more than they already were. Rickon understood her reasons, which was why he hadn't asked Myrcella out already. Sansa knew that it bothered him even though Rickon hadn't protested at all, and she felt sorry for him. Suddenly Rickon looked her way from where he stood and saw her looking at him, and he smiled at her. Sansa smiled back.

She turned around when she hear someone clearing his throat behind her. She was surprised to see Tyrion Lannister standing there.

"Good evening, Sansa," Tyrion greeted her politely, and she replied with a small and gentle smile. She liked Tyrion, he wasn't like the other members of his family.

"Good evening, Tyrion," she said. "Are you enjoying your sister's fundraiser?"

"More than you, I bet," Tyrion said with sarcasm, and he grinned when he saw Sansa frown. "It's obvious from miles away that you do not want to be here."

"I'm just tired," she said, though she knew that Tyrion didn't believe her excuse. She didn't care.

"You should be resting," he said then, and he took a sip from the champagne glass that he was holding in his hand. He shot a quick glance at Sansa's big belly. "I'm sure the little lad needs it as well."

"Yes, he does. I'll be going soon," Sansa said, smiling and resting her hands on her belly. She noticed a spark of curiosity in Tyrion's eyes, and Sansa was sure that it was because of her pregnancy. The whole Lannister family knew that the child was Joffrey's, but no one had asked her who the father was. She could sense that that was the question in Tyrion's mind at that moment, and it was confirmed when he spoke to her again.

"I wonder who he will look like," he murmured, tilting his head to the side a little. "I hope he looks like you."

Sansa knew exactly what that meant. "I hope you are lucky he doesn't look like his real father because if not Joffrey will find the poor bastard and kill him" was what Tyrion was really saying. Sansa had already thought about it several times before; if her child was born with black hair and grey eyes Joffrey (and everyone else, for that matter) would put two and two together and realize the truth immediately. If her baby had Sandor's grey eyes and we red hair the situation wouldn't be so bad, though; she could always pretend like he had the Stark eyes.

"I hope so too, that would be lovely," she said to Tyrion.

There was an outburst of laugher all of a sudden, and she looked away to see that the people that Joffrey was with were laughing at something that he had just said, probably a joke. Joffrey was doing a good job at winning those people to his side, and Sansa almost rolled her eyes. She was glad that she didn't, because at that moment Joffrey looked in her direction and saw her. Before Sansa could look away Joffrey had already excused himself from the company of those people and was walking across the ballroom towards Sansa.

"Uncle, they want to meet you," Jofftey said as soon as he got to Sansa and Tyrion's side. He made a quick movement of his head, pointing like that to the group of people that he had just left and that were now talking among them.

"Lucky me," Tyrion said, again with sarcasm in his voice. He smiled briefly at Sansa before leaving without saying a single word to his nephew. Sansa wanted to leave too, but Joffrey reached his hand out and held her arm, pulling her closer to him.

"You have been avoiding me," he commented in such a casual tone that one might think that he was discussing the weather. "I don't think I like it."

"Well, too bad," Sansa said in an icy tone that just came out of the deepest part of her soul. She didn't even try to please Joffrey anymore, she was done. "Because it's what I intend to keep doing all night long."

If Joffrey was surprised by her answer he didn't show it in his expression. Sansa did notice his grip on her arm becoming tighter, though.

"You are my wife, the First Lady. You are supposed to be by my side. You are making me look bad, people are wondering why you are so distant."

"Look at my face and see if I care," she hissed, staring at him with a black expression. She was surprising herself with her own boldness, and she knew that that was probably not the smart thing to do, but she couldn't help it. Her emotions were skyrocketing and they were more difficult to contain with each passing day.

Joffrey glared at her that time, but he didn't say anything in response to his wife's words. Sansa thought that he was going to let her go, but as always that wasn't the case. Joffrey realized that he was holding on to her arm to tightly and took a deep breath, releasing her arm and taking her hand instead in an attempt to make it look like a loving gesture. Then he let his gaze wander around the place, and suddenly he frowned.

"Where's your brother? I haven't seen him in quite some time."

Sansa fell her heart almost stopping. That was it, she couldn't keep the truth hidden much longer.

"He's right there, talking to your sister," she said, pointing towards Rickon and pretending to be clueless.

"Your _other_ brother."

Her heartbeat was racing. She thought that her heart would tear through the flesh of her chest and come pumping out, but she took a deep and slow breath to calm down.

 _Bran and Ned and very far away, he can't harm them. It's okay,_ she reminded herself before staring at her husband once again. Her gaze became hard and bold, full of defiance, and she could see the expression in Joffrey's eyes quickly changing from confusion to realization, followed by disbelief which changed during one brief second to anger.

Joffrey didn't say a word, he just started walking towards the exit of the the mansion's ballroom dragging Sansa behind him. Some of the guests that were standing near the exit looked at them a bit confused, but Joffrey smiled politely and quickly lied, saying that he was accompanying Sansa outside to let her rest, and then proceeded to drag Sansa outside and towards the staircase. She looked back right before leaving the ballroom, trying to meet somebody's gaze and silently ask ask them to rescue her from Joffrey's claws.

 _Help_! her expression begged, but no one saw her. They were all laughing and talking to each other, ignoring what was going on not far from them, ignoring what was to come. She tried to see if she could spot anyone among the crowd her brother Rickon, or Sandor, or Tyriob, or anyone that would go to help her, but she didn't see them, and then she was too far away from the ballroom to keep trying. She was being taken upstairs by Joffrey, and he wouldn't let her go.

 _Maybe I could scream, they would come then,_ she thought.

She was about to do it. She was about to open her mouth and scream at the top of her lungs, scream until her throat was sore and her voice gone. She did open her mouth, but no sound came from it; she was frozen, unable to scream or fight back. She started regaining her voice a few moments later, but she had only managed to let out an exclamation before Joffrey pushed her inside their bedroom. He slammed the door, but it didn't close properly and it remained open for only a few inches. Joffrey ignored it and glared at Sansa with pure hatred in his green eyes. He was a wild, savage, bloodthirsty beast, and Sansa took a step back towards the wall upon seeing his hateful gaze set in her.

" ** _You little bitch!_** " Joffrey yelled at her, startling her. " _Where are they?_ "

Sansa didn't answer, and Joffrey took a step towards her, backing her against the wall.

" _I said, where are they?!_ "

Joffrey was being so loud that Sansa was sure that at least some of the guests in the party downstairs where being able to hear his shouts over the music.

 _Let them hear him,_ Sansa thought. _Then someone will come to help me._

" ** _WHERE ARE THEY?!_** "

"I don't know..." she whispered.

" _Don't lie!_ "

"I said, I don't know," she repeated, louder this time. "I don't know where they are. You will never find them."

Joffrey's green eyes widened for a second, and immediately after he narrowed them, piercing Sansa with his hateful glare.

"Do you think you have defeated me? Is that it?" he sneered. "You dumb bitch. Your cripple brother and that little orphan brat might have gotten away for now, but you haven't won. You are still here, I still own you. You, and your brother Rickon, and that filthy little bastard that you are carrying inside you."

At the mention of her unborn child Sansa reacted completely by pure instinct, and before she knew what she was doing she had raised her hand and slapped Joffrey hard across the face. There was a loud noise, and Joffrey's head turned to the side and he took a step back.

" _You are never touching my child!_ " she yelled at him. "And you are not touching my brother either, or me! I have had enough of you! You think you own me and my family, that you can control me, but you are mistaken if you think that I will ever let you harm my family ever again! Open your eyes, Joffrey! You can't keep doing this forever! People are already starting to see your true colors..." she lowered her voice in that last sentence, feeling breathless. She hadn't lied, she would keep fighting until the end to keep the remainder of her family alive, no matter what the cost. Joffrey could keep her locked in that mansion by his side and have her as some kind of trophy, but she knew that he couldn't hurt her, not really. Too many bad things had happened already, and too many people were already suspicious. If Joffrey did anything drastic he would be digging his own grave.

But apparently at that moment Joffrey was too angry with her to realize that...

"You whore," he hissed, and without previous notice he slapped Sansa. She gasped in pain, too surprised to raise her voice any louder, and was thrown against the wall. She could feel her cheek burning and swelling; she seriously believed that that was the most painful slap that she had ever received from Joffrey.

Joffrey his hand with the full intention of hitting her again. Sansa closed her eyes and braced herself for the strike...

...which never came. Sansa opened her eyes, and what she saw made her gasp.

Right before Joffrey's hand could collide against her face, the door of the bedroom had been kicked open with so much fury that it was almost kicked down, and Sandor had entered the bedroom and thrown himself over Joffrey with so much rage that it seemed that he was possessed. Before Joffrey could react, Sandor had already punched him in the face with so much strength that the young man was thrown on his back to the floor, yelling in pain. But Sandor didn't stop there. Sansa gasped and covered her gaping mouth with her hands while she witnessed how Joffrey struggled to stand up again and Sandor grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him closer to him. Blood was running out of Joffrey's nose. He looked at Sandor with his eyes wide open, confused and surprised and not understanding what was happening. He opened his mouth to protest, but Sandor punched him again. His grip on Joffrey's shirt stopped the man from falling to the floor again. Sandor's expression at that moment was like that of a wild beast, showing his teeth and with his eyes narrowed and full of hate and bloodlust.

"I have been standing aside for three years..." he snarled while he punched Joffrey again. Blood fell to the floor, staining the carpet of the bedroom, "watching you turn her life into hell over and over and mistreating and abusing her."

His closed fist collided against Joffrey's face again, making the President of Westeros scream that time. Sandor let go of his shirt and Joffrey fell to the floor, but instead of leaving him alone Sandor kneeled at his side and turned him around so that Joffrey was lying on his back and facing him. Sansa was still standing a few feet away from them, covering her mouth with her hands and watching with eyes wide as plates how Sandor mercilessly punched Joffrey over and over again on the floor. Joffrey was trying to fight back and threw a few punches at Sandor, the majority of which the bodyguard just dodged and the ones that he didn't did not harm him, either because he was too furious to actually fell anything or because Joffrey was too weak to hurt him.

" _I won't stand aside and watch ever again!_ " Sandor yelled in Joffrey's face. Joffrey mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but Sandor ignored him. He raised his fist and crashed it against Joffrey's nose. There was an awful breaking sound and Joffrey yelled in pain. " ** _I will kill you, you fucking son of a bitch!_** "

He was hitting Joffrey everywhere now; in the face, in the chest, in the stomach... Joffrey kept grunting and yelling in pain, but Sandor didn't stop. It didn't look like he had any intention of stopping anytime soon, and Joffrey just looked worse and worse as seconds went by.

"Sandor, stop," Sansa said, but her words didn't come out as more than a whisper. She was only asking him to stop because what he was doing was going to probably have a catastrophic outcome. But the truth was that she didn't want Sandor to stop. She wanted to see Joffrey suffer, and so she remained silent while Sandor continued beating Joffrey mercilessly.

Joffrey somehow managed to kick Sandor hard enough to make the bodyguard fall back, and he used that moment to try to crawl on all fours away from there. Joffrey tried to stand up but he tripped on his own feet and almost fell back face-first on the floor. He gasped for air and moaned in pain, and he gasped once again when Sandor reached out with his hand to grab him. Sansa had _never_ seen Joffrey like that, and she wasn't sure of how to react at what she was witnessing at the moment. Watching Sandor and Joffrey at that moment was like watching a mighty tiger hunt a wordless little scared rat. Joffrey felt Sandor almost grabbing him and he reacted by instinct, kicking Sandor once more to get him away. Sandor cursed under his breath when Joffrey's foot almost hit him in the face. Joffrey was almost out of breath; he crawled as fast as he could away from Sandor and he tried to hold onto the bed and the furniture to stand up on his feet again. While he was doing that, Sandor reached out once again and managed to grab Joffrey's ankle and pulled from it, making Joffrey fall flat on the floor. Joffrey yelled while he was being dragged on the floor towards Sandor; the bodyguard turned him around and Joffrey tried to cover up his face with his arms to protect himself, but it was of no use. The look on his eyes right before Sandor's fist collided against his face once again was that of pure terror, like the expression that a rabbit has right before a fox buried its teeth into its flesh.

 _He's going to kill him,_ Sansa realized when she saw the state in which Joffrey was already.

Sansa waited for it to happen, for Sandor to punch Joffrey one more time or two or three until the life escaped his beaten body. Could it really be that easy? Could Sansa be finally witnessing the end of her torment? Her heart skipped a beat, and she wanted it to happen. She forgot about all the problems that would follow, because the idea of Joffrey being gone for good was too sweet, too tempting...

But that didn't happen. Three people ran into the bedroom all of a sudden and threw themselves on Sandor, grabbing him and pulling him away from Joffrey. Sansa identified Meryn, Boros, and Gregor Clegane, and the horror returned to her face. Sandor fought against them, trying to rid himself of them so that he could resume beating Joffrey to a bloody pulp, but three people (one of them being his monstrous and gigantic brother) were too many for him and they held him in place. A fourth person followed the three bodyguards into the room, and Sansa almost cried when she saw that it was Tywin Lannister, who looked absolutely rabid.

"What the hells is going on in here?!" he hissed angrily while he let his gaze run all over the bedroom, Sandor, Sansa, and his grandson.

Joffrey tried to stand up on his own, but he fell back on the floor with a grunt full of pain. His grandfather went to help him up, and Joffrey managed to stand on his feet again, though he could not stand straight. His face was a bloody mess; blood ran out of his very probably broken nose, his lips were split, and he spat blood. His face was swollen and definitely no longer handsome, with cuts and bruises, and his eye was black. It was a pitiful sight. Sansa would have enjoyed it immensely if the circumstances had been a bit different and there weren't three people holding Sandor back and if Tywin Lannister wasn't in the room. Everything was going downhill as a speed that made Sansa dizzy and that made her want to cry and throw up.

" ** _Don't touch me!_** " Joffrey bellowed, pushing his grandfather away. He was breathing heavily and whimpering in pain. He touched his face and winced. When he looked at his hand and saw all the blood there the color drained from his face. He stared at it for a long time, as if the sight of his own blood had paralyzed him. Sandor was still struggling with the three men.

" _Let go, you sons of whores!_ " he barked. He managed to make Boros trip and elbow Meryn in the stomach, but his brother punched him fiercely in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Joffrey looked away from his bloodied hand and set his gaze on Sandor then. There wasn't rage in his eyes, which was curious. There was only... amazement, and something that Sansa believed to be betrayal. She was perplex at that, and she thought about what Joffrey must have been thinking. He was just been beaten up by the man that had known him his whole life, who protected him since he was nine years old. Putting it like that, Sansa found it obvious that Joffrey was reacting in such way.

Then Joffrey looked at her, and Sansa froze. She thought that he would suddenly take out all of his anger on her, but he didn't. Instead he just glared back and forth her and Sandor.

"You..." he muttered in such a cold and deadly tone that Sansa felt her bones and blood freezing. Joffrey spat blood on the floor before continuing to speak. The beating that he had taken made it difficult and painful for him to speak. "I should have known... _I should have known all along!_ "

Sansa closed her eyes and felt a year rolling down her cheek. Joffrey knew. Joffrey knew... There was nothing to do now.

 _Oh, Sandor,_ she lamented in her mind. _You didn't have to come and rescue me... You have doomed yourself..._

"I suspected it some time ago!" Joffrey continued saying, raising his voice as he spoke. His words had a strange tone to it, like an accent, due to the awkward way in which his swollen jaw moved and because of the blood in his mouth. "I couldn't help but wonder... but I thought that it couldn't be! It couldn't be, because I never thought you capable of being so stupid, dog! You...! _You could just have fucked her and be done with it, **you didn't have to fall in love with her!**_ "

There was so much hate in Joffrey's words that the way in which he said that last part of his sentence sounded as it he was spitting bitter venom. His whole body was shaking, both because of the beating that had weakened him and because of the wrath that burned his insides. Sansa had often imagined how it would be like of Joffrey ever found out about her and Sandor... She had seen Joffrey reacting in all kinds of ways to different situations; she had seen him exploding with anger and turning violent, she had seen him reacting with ice-cold smiles and polite and soft words and conspiring silently... She had thought that if the truth ever came out Joffrey would simply stage an accident to dispose of them, or maybe he would coldly execute them by shooting them, or maybe he would take all his anger on her like he always did... She wasn't surprised by the way in which he was shouting like a madman, but he was surprised by the different emotions that he sensed in them. It almost seemed to her as if Joffrey didn't really know how to properly react.

"What was it, huh?! Was it her pretty face?! Was it her fame, her money?! Was it her body, or the way she fucked you?!" Joffrey continued yelling while his face turned dark red. " _Tell me, you idiot, **what was it?!**_ "

"It was just her," Sandor angrily growled between gritted teeth. "I was able to see her for who she really is and value her, unlike you, you pathetic little shit!"

As soon as Sandor said that, Joffrey laughed. Everyone else in the room was deadly silent.

"I see. The Hound found his lady..." Joffrey scoffed, and he spat more blood on the floor. He and Sandor glared at each other, and the bodyguard tried once more to get rid of the three men that held him but it was in vain. Joffrey looked away from him then and decided to turn his attention on Sansa. Even though a silent tear had rolled down her cheek earlier, she wasn't crying. She was too terrified to actually cry. Joffrey took a step towards her, looking at her with an expression that Sansa did not know whether to describe as incredibly angry or amused. Could it be possible that Joffrey was really actually enjoying that moment? Of he knew how terrified Sansa was (and surely how scared Sandor must be as well) then he was surely enjoying it, even though that enjoyment was mostly eclipsed by his anger at the fact that his most trusted bodyguard and his wife, his prisoner, had managed to carry an affair right under his nose for so long. "But the question is... does she reciprocate your feelings? Tell me, wife... Do you love my bodyguard as much as he claims to love you? Surely not, look at him..." Joffrey sneered, pointing at Sandor with one hand. "He's just a nobody. A disfigured, ugly, poor nobody. Though maybe you thought that he was your means to escape this place? That he was your gallant knight in white armor?" He mocked.

Sansa didn't answer. Of course she loved Sandor, she loved him more than she had ever loved a anybody in her whole life! She couldn't imagine where she would be without him... Dead, probably. But she was afraid of the consequences if she told that to Joffrey. Maybe he would do terrible things to Sandor just to torture her for her betrayal.

Annoyed by her silence, Joffrey closed the distance between them and grabbed her chin, making her gasp and forcing her to look at him in the eye. " _Answer me._ "

"I love him." The words slipped through her lips so suddenly that she didn't even realize that she was saying them. It didn't even feel like she was saying them, it was as if she was hearing somebody else saying them... But they were the biggest truth that had ever come out of her mouth, a truth that she had kept hidden from the rest of the world for far too long and that were now acting as a bomb. That's what they were, really; a bomb that exploded with the force of a thousand supernovas and hit everything that was around. She had feared for years that that truth would come out, and though she had said it because there was no point in trying to keep the lie alive, she suddenly felt so... relieved. She wasn't terrified anymore, not even scared. She just felt like the weight of the entire world had been lifted from her shoulders the moment that she said those words to Joffrey.

She could feel the tension that suddenly filled the room. She took her gaze away from Joffrey's for a second to obverse the reactions of the other people in the room. The closest person to them was Tywin Lannister; Sansa had never in her life seen that man at such a loss of words. Governor Lannister was always so stern, so calm and cold as ice in a way that made him a very intimidating man that it was rather unsettling to see him so caught off guard, but at the same time it was the most satisfying thing in the world. Next to him was Sandor being held by his brother and Boros and Meryn. Sandor was looking at Sansa with his grey eyes wide open and full of fear and shock. Maybe he had hoped to only doom himself with his confession and was expecting her to lie and save herself with some farce, but Sansa would never do that. She gave him a look that told him as much, and although Sandor looked defeated he also looked calm, like she was feeling at the moment. There was an incredible peace to be found at moments of such danger where everything was at stake. Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline but for a few seconds they shared a moment of relief. They knew it wouldn't last for long, though.

"I love him," she repeated, staring into Joffrey's hateful eyes again. Her tone was one of defiance. If the truth was finally out and she had to speak about it she would let him know that she wasn't ashamed or that she regretted anything, because she didn't. "I have loved him for years and I will keep loving him all my life. You say that he is a nobody, but he is ten thousand times a better man that you can ever hope to be," she hissed. She didn't even wince when Joffrey lifted his arm and grabbed her hair with his hand. From the corner of her eye she could see Sandor struggling once again to free himself, but Joffrey didn't do anything to her.

Sansa didn't miss the reactions of the other three men when she looked away from Joffrey again. Boros and Meryn had dropped their jaws to the floor and were gaping like fishes out of the water. They stared at Sandor and Sansa with wide eyes full of amazement, and even envy. Sansa almost scoffed. She knew that that envy was because they wanted what Sandor had, she hadn't missed the lewd stares that she often got from them and the other men that worked for Joffrey. As if she would ever look at them... What unsettled her once again and took her out of her state of relief over the fact that she wouldn't have to lie and hide anymore was the expression on Gregor Clegane's face. There wasn't surprise or shock in the giant man's face, of course, because he already knew (or at least had suspected very much) the relationship that existed between his younger brother and the First Lady of Westeros. What unsettled Sansa when she looked at him was the way in which he was smirking with eyes full of malice, and that was when she realized... He knew what was coming. He knew what was coming for his brother and Sansa, he was imagining it in his head, and he was enjoying it very much...

All the relief and the calmness were swept away in a second, and she looked again into Joffrey's furious green eyes.

"You dumb slut," he hissed so lowly that maybe Sansa was the only one who could hear him. He pulled a little from her hair, making her head move back and her neck arch in an uncomfortable way. "You Starks are so stupid, you all tied the noose around your neck yourselves without realizing it. You never think about the consequences, do you? _Do you, bitch?_ "

There was some loud shouting all of a sudden and a lot of noise, and when both of them looked to see what was going on they saw that Sandor had managed to push Meryn and kick Boros away from him, and he had thrown a punch to his brother's stomach and then to his neck and choked him, which gave Sandor a few available seconds to be able to act. He was about to throw himself of Joffrey to grab him and break his neck, but Joffrey was faster. Even though he was still extremely hurt from the beating he moved fast now that he had been able to catch a break, and he pushed Sansa away from him, making her fall between himself and Sandor. For a moment Sandor forgot all about Joffrey and went immediately to help Sansa stand up and check that she was alright and that she hadn't hit her belly, which she hadn't. He turned his attention back to Joffrey then, but it was too late; Joffrey had already reached the bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a gun from inside it and was now aiming it at Sandor's head, making him freeze.

" ** _No!_** " Sansa cried, terrified for a moment that Joffrey would pull the trigger and kill Sandor right there in front of her eyes. She looked around her with pleading eyes, but no one in that room had any intention to stop Joffrey from shooting Sandor.

 _HELP ME!_ she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs to make someone come, though it would be of no use. No one could ever stop Joffrey.

" _Joffrey, please!_ " she cried, but her husband wasn't looking at her anymore. His attention was fixed solely on Sandor, who stared back at him with a solemn look in his fierce eyes. Sandor wasn't afraid of Joffrey pointing a gun at him, the only fear that he could fear in that situation was for Sansa.

Joffrey didn't shoot. He was still breathing hard, and his hand was shaking so badly that everyone wondered how he managed to keep holding the gun and not let it fall down to the floor at his feet. Sansa recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same look that there was in them when he killed her father. But there was something different that time... Hesitation. It was stopping Joffrey from pulling the trigger...

"Come on, Joffrey," Sandor rasped, and he straightened his back to stand as talk as he could in front of the man holding the gun. He even opened his arms slightly, as if in a gesture of invitation. "Shoot me."

" _Sandor!_ " Sansa cried, louder than before. She took a step forward wanting to stand by his side or in front of him as a shield, but Gregor Clegane grabbed her arm and stopped her. " _No! Let me go!_ "

" _Shoot me,_ " Sandor repeated, daring Joffrey. Joffrey still didn't shoot, and his hand shook even more than before. "Kill me like you kill everybody else. Come on. Everyone will hear you, and you won't be able to hide anymore. They will discover the monster you are and you will lose everything. Some come on, Joffrey, shoot me!"

For a moment it seemed that Joffrey was going to do it, that he was about to shoot and put a bullet between Sandor's eyes. Sansa felt a scream about to form in her throat, but she remained silent because Joffrey never pulled the trigger. She saw his face contorting into an ugly and furious grimace, and then he cursed and lowered the gun.

He was about to say something when two more people suddenly arrived and walked into the room; Cersei Lannister and Rickon.

"What is happening here?" Cersei asked before she had the chance to take a good look around and see what was happening. "Lower your voice! We could hear you all the way from downstairs, the guests are- oh my God, Joffrey!" she exclaimed when she saw the bloodied face of her eldest son.

"Sansa," Rickon walked to his sister's side and hugged her protectively, and she leaned against him like a scared child, glad to have someone at her side at that moment.

Cersei was about to go to her son's side as well, but she froze when she saw the gun in his hands. She didn't appear to be horrified, though, she just looked like she was trying to figure out what had led to that situation. After she took a good look at Joffrey's face, Sandor's burst knuckles and the was in which he was once again being held by the other three bodyguards, and Sansa, it all made sense to her. The woman shot her daughter-in-law the most hateful and disgusted look that she had ever received in her whole life, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Sandor wasn't hurt.

"Get out," Joffrey murmured then. He was shaking so much and he spoke with so much tension that his words were hard to hear. When he saw that no one was moving or doing anything he became angrier. "Get out! _Get the fuck out of my house, Clegane! **OUT**_!"

Sandor didn't even move an inch, not willingly. He only started moving away from where he had been standing because the other three men pushed him towards the door.

"Take him out the back door, I don't want anyone to see him," Joffrey said. "You know what to do."

"No, Sandor," Sansa gasped. What were they going to do with him? Where were they taking him?! She tried to move away from her brother to go towards Sandor, but Rickon stopped her. "Sandor!"

"I'll come back, little bird," he said in a deep voice while he looked at her, and she knew that it was a promise.

"Come back here..." Joffrey hissed deadly, "and I'll send you your son in a box."

Sandor didn't have a chance to reply to the threat, for he was taken away from the room at that moment. That was the last that Sansa saw of him, but he did manage to get one last glimpse of his face, of his rough expression and his grey eyes that shine with the dark determination of keeping his promise to her. She believed him when he had said that he would be back, and she trusted him, but that didn't make her any less afraid.

After the bodyguards had taken Sandor away Joffrey dropped the gun to the floor. There was still anger on his face, but there was a lot of pain in it, and exhaustion. The beating had been worse than it looked at first sight. He took two very small and clumsy steps towards Sansa, and she flinched and backed into her brother's arms. Rickon moved her to the side and he stepped forward to stand between her and Joffrey. Joffrey ignored his brother-in-law and glared at Sansa.

" _You will-_ " he started saying while he pointed at her with a menacing finger, but Rickon interrupted him before he could finish his threat.

"Stay away from her."

Joffrey was about to say something to Rickon, but no words came out of his mouth. He started coughing a lot and he took a few steps back until he was sitting down on the bed, bent over in pain. Cersei immediately went to help her son, though there was not much that she could do.

"Call a doctor," she told her father. "And keep the guests entertained. Tell them that Joffrey had an emergency or whatever you want, but we mustn't let this night become a scandal."

"They already heard the shouting," Tywin's tone was low and harsh.

"Tell them anything you want, but do something!" Normally Cersei would never talk to her father in that way and Tywin Lannistsr wouldn't tolerate it either, but that occasion was extraordinary and no one really knew how to act. Suddenly Cersei glared at Sansa. "And get her out of my sight!"

Sansa didn't have to be told twice. Rickon accompanied her out of the room and went with her towards her old bedroom, holding her as they walked. Only then did Sansa notice how much she was shaking. She was in shock. She couldn't believe that in five minutes all that had happened. Sandor had been kicked out of the Red Keep mansion, what were they going to do now?! Would she see him again? She didn't know how that would be possible now, and the thought of not seeing him ever again was killing her.

"Don't worry," Rickon said when he sensed her anxiety. "We'll fix this."

"I don't know how we are going to get out if this one, Rickon..." she murmured, feeling numb. She really didn't see a way out. All she saw was a never-ending dark tunnel in front of her, and she had already entered it and there was no way out.

"We are. Trust me."

And, for some reason that she still didn't understand, Sansa trusted her brother.

* * *

 

Rickon knew that he had to act quickly. Any second that he wasted would decrease his chances of succeeding, and he couldn't risk that, not after what had just happened earlier. He had just left his sister in her bedroom and had told her to lock her door and to stay in there while he did what he had to do. She had asked what it was that he wanted to do, but he didn't tell her, there would be time for that later.

Everybody was busy in the mansion at that moment, so it was the perfect moment to act. The party was still going on (cancelling it all of a sudden would only make the guests nervous and very suspicious that something bad had happened, and no one wanted that,) so everyone was in it and wouldn't be walking around the mansion, and those that were not in the party were with Joffrey while they waited for the doctor to heal his wounds. If Rickon was lucky no one would find him. He just needed a couple of minutes…

He remembered what Sandor had told him about his plan to get the dagger out of the safe behind the portrait. They still hadn't had any luck with that, but maybe, just maybe, that would be their lucky day. Sandor was gone now, and Rickon had to take over.

He went to his room and grabbed the blacklight that Sandor had given him in case he ever needed it and he ran into the hallway to get to Joffrey's office as fast as he could. His heart was racing inside his ribcage and rivers of adrenaline flowed through his veins. If they caught him after having caught Sandor that same day he didn't want to think about the consequences.

He arrived at Joffrey's office and found the door open. Thanking all the gods above, Rickon entered the office and closed the door behind him while being careful to not make any noise that might attract anyone nearby, and then he walked towards the portrait on the wall. He grabbed it with both hands and got it off the wall and then he carefully put in of the floor by his side. He took the blacklight out of his pocket and looked at the keyboard on the safe. For a few seconds he prayed all the prayers that he knew to all the gods old and new and foreign so that that time would finally be the time… They needed that dagger, now more than ever…

His palms were sweaty, making it difficult to hold the blacklight in his hand. He took a deep breath and turned on the blacklight…

He almost shouted with happiness when he looked down at the keyboard illuminated by the blacklight and saw the phosphorescent blue fingerprints in three of the keys that had numbers on it. 2, 5, 0. Those numbers made up the password that opened the safe that very possibly contained the proof that they needed to finally defeat Joffrey once and for all…

Now he had to find out the order in which he had to put the numbers. At first he was confused that there were three numbers, until he realized that one of them must be repeated, because the password had to have four digits. Sandor and he had never talked about what they would do once they had the numbers or letters that made up the password, they were too worried trying to simply get them. Rickon sighed and thought about the possible combinations. 0025, 0250, 0052, 5520, 0525, 2250… There were too many! How was he ever going to get through all of them?! He didn't have time to try all of them out, and what if he screwed up real bad if he put on the incorrect password? He couldn't allow himself to make any mistakes!

And suddenly it hit him. 2005. The year in which the Civil War had started and ended, the year in which the Targaryen dictator was defeated and Westeros became once again a democratic country with Robert Baratheon as its President. Rickon had known Joffrey for long enough to know how proud the man was with his father's involvement in the war and its outcome.

With trembling fingers and hoping that he wasn't wrong, Rickon clicked the numbers on the keyboard…

There was a soft 'click', and the safe opened, revealing its contents to Rickon. Unable to believe his eyes, Rickon took out two plastic surgeon globes from his pocket and put them on before picking up the box inside the safe. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears…

He opened the box. There, covered in blood since the night the crime was committed to preserve it as some kind of macabre trophy, was the dagger.

* * *

 

Sandor had never fucked up so badly like he had fucked up that day ever in his life. He had had massive self-control during those years, he had managed to make it look like he didn't care for so long, and now all of a sudden it had all gone to hell. It had been for a good reason, though. When he saw Joffrey grabbing Sansa and dragging her out of the party he had immediately known that something was very wrong, specially since he also knew that that had been the day in which Bran and Ned had escaped with Gendry. Joffrey never held back when he was angry, and Sandor sensed that at that moment he was furious, so he had followed them. And thank God that he had done that, because Joffrey was getting ready to give Sansa a good beating if there was nobody there to stop him. Sandor hadn't given a fuck that the whole truth would come out. He had seen red when when had seen that Joffrey had already slapped Sansa once before he arrived, and he hadn't given it a second thought before unleashing all his fury on the man that had been his boss for so many years. Sandor had promised that he wouldn't stand aside and let Joffrey hurt Sansa again, not anymore, and this time he had also been defending their child.

But of course, by trying to save them he had also got them into more trouble. He could have been dead right at that very moment if it hadn't been because Joffrey hadn't pulled the trigger. Really Sandor's punishment had been very merciful compared to what could have happened, but the worse punishment for him was being separated from Sansa. He should have killed Joffrey and taken Sansa away before the others arrived.

His brother hadn't let him go so easily. After the other bodyguards had snorted him out like Joffrey had ordered, Meryn and Boros had left, but Gregor had stayed with him. During a brief moment in which Sandor had turned his back to his brother he had been hit hard in the back of the head, which had made him see stars. Gregor had forced him inside one of the black SUVs and he had driven him away from the Red Keep. Gregor had eventually left him in an empty street in King's Landing, had punched him a couple times really hard (courtesy of Joffrey) and then he had left. It hadn't been a real fight, but it had been enough for Sandor to have to go to the hospital to get some stitches right above his left eyebrow.

Now he was alone, desperate, and disoriented. He didn't know where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do now. He had been left on the street hurt, homeless and penniless with nowhere to go. He hadn't just lost Sansa, he had lost everything.

He sat in some steps that were nearby and groaned because of the soreness in his body. Gregor hadn't beaten him up, it had only been a couple of punches, and Sandor was sure that it was because his brother knew that nothing could be worse for him than being away from the Red Keep mansion unable of doing anything to get to Sansa and being conscious of it. A beating would have only caused him physical pain, and that didn't last. It would even be a welcome distraction from the real pain and the real problem...

He touched the wound above his eyebrow and then looked at his fingers and the red blood on them. His knuckles were also bleeding from the beating that he had given Joffrey. He didn't know how he had felt while his fist hit his boss's face again and again and again. He had always thought that he would feel amazing if that day ever came, that he would feel liberated or that he would feel a great sense of satisfaction for being finally able to do what he had anted to do for so long. But it hadn't felt good. Really, the only thing that he had felt while he hit Joffrry was that he couldn't stop, he had to keep going, for Sansa... And then all had been rage and anger and bloodthirst, and he had felt like an animal. He had hated it, but it had been necessary.

He searched his pockets to see if he at least had something valuable in them, but he didn't even have a little bit of money. He had his phone in there, and he looked at the contact list. If only there was anyone that he could call to help him sort out that mess, but he had no friends. In the phone he only had the numbers of the people he used to work with and for, and Sansa's number. He obviously couldn't call any of them. He also had Varys's numbers, but Varys would only help if he gave him the dagger that he has asked for months ago, and Sandor had left the mansion without finding it. He cursed under his breath, and then he found her contact number: Michele, his sister.

 _I can't call her!_ a voice protested in his mind. _I haven't spoken to her in months, and I can't drag her into this mess!_

But he was desperate, and he saw no other option. He dialed the number and waited for his sister to respond.

His sister wasn't angry with him when she picket up the phone. He had expected her to be at least upset; after all he had forgotten all about her in those months and he had just called her now that he needed her, but he could explain. He was surprised when his sister said hi to him over the phone in a happy tone and asked how he was doing. Sandor sighed and started with telling the simple but important things first; he had just been fired. Before he could say one more word Michele had already asked him if he had any place to stay, and when he said no she asked him where he was. Sandor gave her the address, and in ten minutes Michelle was pulling her car over by the sidewalk that he was in, and ten minutes after that they were in her apartment and she was stitching him up.

"What happened to you?" she asked while she closed his wound.

"Gregor did it to me."

"Did you two fight? That's why you were fired?"

"No, he did this to me because I was fired," he rasped. It has been a long night that he just wanted to forget, but he knew that he owed Michele an explanation. He has called her, after all. "I... I had a fight with the President. That's how I got this," he said, showing her his knuckles.

"What?!" Michele exclaimed. "You fought with the President?!"

He nodded. "I beat him up to a bloody pulp. Then I got in trouble..."

"Why did you beat up the President of Westeros?!" Michele wasn't shouting, she was just exclaiming really loudly, but it was normal since not everyday a person found out that their brother had gotten the leader of the nation a new face by punching him. Sandor hesitated before answering, because that was when things were going to start to get complicated to explain. He decided that he wouldn't tell Michele the whole story, or at least not yet. He would just tell her they part that had actually led to the fight and him being fired from his job and kicked out.

"The child that the First Lady is expecting..." he murmured, and Michele looked at him with anticipation, wanting to know what he was going to say. She must have realized that it was something very serious. "It's not the President's..."

"Oh wow," Michele murmured, with realization and shock all over her features. Her reaction surprised Sandor, because she wasn't horrified or scandalized or anything. She was just amazed by what she had just heard, and then she raised her eyebrows and smirked in a way that seemed to be saying 'good for you, big brother!'. But that was just because she only knew part of the story...

"There have been many problems inside that mansion," he told her. "I need to get Sansa back. I just don't know how..."

"You'll figure out a way," Michele assured him, and she gave him a little smile. Of course she was only saying that because she didn't know what Sandor really meant by 'problems' but he was not willing to tell her everything. Maybe it would be better for her if she just ignored the mess in which he was in. "And while you do that and get another job and everything you can stay here if you want," she said. "The apartment is too big for me alone, and it would be nice to have a roommate, specially if he is my long-lost brother!" she smiled to him.

He was so surprised that he didn't even have time to respond before Michele stood up and left his side to take the things that she had been healing him with to the kitchen to trow them away and clean up a little bit. He looked at her as she walked away, and then he looked around to the apartment. True, it was big enough for the two of them to live comfortable in it, and he didn't have anywhere else to go. He didn't want to bother anyone with his presence, and he didn't want anyone to help him out of pity, but when he saw his sister's expression again he realized that she wasn't bothered and that she wasn't doing it out of pity. She was helping him because she considered him her family already.

"Thank you," he murmured, and Michele simply replied with a smile.

Things were looking a bit better now. At least now he didn't have to worry about how to survive until he managed to get Sansa out of the Red Keep mansion. He couldn't wait anymore, it had to be done as soon as possible. But how?!

 _I'm so sorry, Sansa,_ he thought, feeling miserable. _I have failed you again..._

His phone started ringing inside his pocket then, and he frowned. Who could be calling him after what had happened? He took the phone out of his pocket, hoping that it would be Sansa (even though he knew that that wouldn't be the case because she would be watched all the time from now on), and he was surprised when he read Rickon Stark's name on the screen.

"Hello?" he said as soon as he picked up the call.

" _Sandor! Thank God, I thought you wouldn't pick up,_ " Sansa's youngest brother exclaimed. Sandor thought that it sounded as if Rickon was driving a car. " _Where are you? Are you ok?_ "

"I'm fine, I'm fine… How's your sister?"

" _She's ok. She's a bit scared and very nervous, but she's fine. Joffrey is the one that is not looking good, believe me_ " Rickon chuckled. " _I had to leave Sansa back at the mansion, but she will be fine. Where are you? I need to see you now."_

"I'm at my sister's, why?"

" _I have it!_ "

Sandor frowned. Had it? Had what? He couldn't mean...

" _He finally opened it!_ " Rickon exclaimed on the other side of the line. " _I have the dagger, Sandor! We did it!_ "

Sandor couldn't believe it. After all that time, precisely that night when everything seemed to be about to go to hell, they finally got their hands on the one thing that could rid them from Joffrey once and for all. He felt as if he could jump into the air and sing and dance if he had been the kind of person that celebrated that way and if he hadn't been so altered from the past events of the day.

"Come here and meet me now," he said, and he gave the address to Rickon. "Be careful, we can't fuck up now."

" _Tell that to yourself, I'm the only one that hasn't fucked up anything yet!_ " Rickon retorted before ending the call.

Immediately after Rickon hung up, Sandor called Varys. He was so nervous that his hands shook so much that he almost dropped the phone, but he managed to hold it tightly while he waited for the man to pick up. Sandor felt as it bolts of electricity were roaming all over his body, making him unable to stay still for even a second. They did it. They had the dagger... After all that time...

If there was a God, Sandor thanked him right before Varys answered the call.

" _Clegane?_ "

"I have the proof you wanted," Sandor said. He didn't have time to explain anything, he wanted to go straight to the point. "We'll meet in the same place as last time and I will give it to you."

" _Excellent!_ " Varys exclaimed excitedly, like a child that had just been told that he was going to have a new toy. " _Well done, Clegane, well done._ "

"What do we do now?"

" _Now?_ " Varys repeated. His voice was full of satisfaction, and Sandor knew that that was a good thing. If Varys was happy then it meant that Joffrey would be ruined. If Joffrey was ruined then Sansa would be saved. " _Now we wait._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahaha!


	54. Welcome to the New Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the title of the chapter from the song Radioactive by Imagine Dragons. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! :D

Rumors about what had happened the night of the fundraiser at the Red Keep mansion had been hard to silence. No matter how many efforts the Lannisters made to entertain their guests to take their minds off the fact that suddenly the President and the First Lady had mysteriously disappeared, they couldn't do anything about the shouting and yelling and screaming that could be heard all the way from the bedroom. Luckily for them the music had made it hard to listen and the people at the fundraiser didn't really understand what had happened. However, people talked, and soon rumors spread.

Joffrey considered rumors to be a disease. He had always been good at avoiding that kind of disease, he just had to amputate the sick limb... but he had found no cure for the current one. It was too late for amputation or removal, and the disease had spread. Even though the exact words that had been shouted between him, his bodyguard and his wife and the events that had taken place were not exactly known by the people that were inside the mansion at the moment, and those little idiots had spoken more than they should outside of the walls of that mansion and so Joffrey's name was in everyone's lips immediately, whispered under their breath as if it was some kind of taboo, and everyone had their different theories of what had happened. Joffrey just decided to avoid them all, though he was aware that the image of his fake happy marriage had been partially torn apart that night. Whenever anybody asked about his wife and questioned her absence (Sansa had been completely forbidden to leave the mansion after that night) Joffrey simply smiled as sweetly as he could and said that his wife was in bed because she needed rest for her pregnancy. Then the whispers would start again, and Joffrey didn't fail to notice the funny expressions in some people's eyes when he said that. Sansa's pregnancy was included in the rumors that had spread. Just to be safe, Joffrey had made one quick phone call to his doctor reminding him of how only little tiny pieces of him would would be found at the bottom of the Blackwater river should need of his "disability" reach the public. He could let everyone talk about his marriage, but not to the extent of letting people know that the child wasn't his!

Sansa... Whenever Joffrey though of her he felt the overwhelming need to shoot something, or someone. Preferably her. She was at fault for everything! She was a whore, a slut that had tried to ruin everything since the beginning! Joffrey only wished that he could close his eyes around her beautiful, small, and thing neck and choke her until the life escaped her lungs and the light extinguished in her eyes. He wished he could bury the same dagger that he stabbed Ned Stark with in her heart! Then at last he would get rid of his biggest nuisance, but he couldn't! Ah, if only!

He had thought about killing Sandor instead. He had lost his sleep many nights after the fight, and in those sleepless night he considered all his options. If he was careful enough Sandor could be just one more bodyguard that got fired and one day he mysteriously disappeared leaving no trail behind. No one would miss him, no one would look for him, no one would even remember him. But at least Joffrey would have gotten his revenge, his sweet, sweet revenge... The more he thought about it, the more furious that he became. How had Sandor dared to stab him in the back like that?! Joffrey didn't care about anyone, he wasn't fond of anyone, not even his own family... but he did expect a certain level of loyalty from the people around him. Specially those that he paid to protect him. Sandor had known him since he was a baby, and the man had been a bodyguard ever since he started working as one. The last person on Earth that Joffrey would have expected to be fucking his wife behind his back and getting her pregnant and falling in love with her was Sandor Clegane. True, a tiny part of himself had suspected it sometimes, but he always dismissed it as some ridiculous thought of his busy and tired mind. He should have seen it, the quick glances when they thought that no one was looking, the lack of complaints from both of them when he assigned Sandor as Sansa's bodyguard, the great amount of time that they spent together... There were hints all over the place, yes, but Joffrey hadn't been able to see them. He had been a fool... But he would be a fool no longer. Part of him told him that he should track down and kill Clegane and give his mitigated body as a gift to his beloved wife. No one should be able to laugh in his face like Sansa and Clegane had laughed at him and walk away alive. But Joffrey had thought about it better and he had decided that death wasn't a fitting punishment in that case. He would track down Sandor eventually and make him suffer... but for now he was going to allow the man to live wth the knowledge that his beloved was trapped in the Red Keep mansion, unable to do anything or go anywhere. She was at Joffrey's mercy, and that terrified Clegane. For now that was punishment enough for Joffrey, but just for the moment. And as for Sansa... well, he was still thinking about what to do to her. He had to be creative.

A couple months had passed since the incident in the night of the fundraiser. Joffrey had avoided showing himself in public because of his appearance after the fight. He had had to stay in bed, and he had been quite furious about it. Every bone in his body had hurt like hell, specially in his face, and everyone had refused to give him a mirror when he requested one. But when he had gotten out if bed to go to the bathroom at night he had finally seen his reflection in the mirror, and he had finally seen what his bodyguard had done to him. He was unrecognizable, with his swollen face and black eyes and split lips and badly bruised skin. The doctor had told him that it was a miracle that he hadn't lost a couple of teeth at least, and just in case he had to eat soft food for several days after the beating. He had cancelled all the meetings and events that he had scheduled for that time, feigning for be terribly sick, and he had locked himself up inside the mansion until the swelling of his face returned to normal, his eyes weren't black anymore, and he looked overall completely normal. It took quite some time, but he couldn't let the people of Westeros see him in that state and confirm the rumors that had spread around the country.

Not long ago Joffrey had managed to show his face in public again, and he had been received with an strange welcome that was both warm and suspicious, depending on whom it came from. It irritated him to no ends, but he couldn't let anyone see that. He simply smiled and greeted everyone and thanked all of those who had wished him a quick recovery from his supposed illness, and he had resumed his responsibilities as the President of Westeros. He had figured that the faster that he got back to work the better it would be, and he tried to act as normal as possible, as if nothing had ever happened, as if he had never been absent because one of his bodyguards almost beat him to death. That day he was about to give a speech at Congress. It wasn't the first speech that he had had to give, obviously, but they always made him nervous because Robb Stark had set up a very high precedent and everyone was expecting just as much or even better from Joffrey. He cursed Robb Stark's name a thousand times fold. Even in death that bloody bastard was causing him trouble! Him and his goddamn family of traitors...

At least Joffrey was thankful that the speech was about warfare, which was one of his strongholds, or so he thought. Westeros had been at peace for many years, but the world wasn't a peaceful place, and Joffrey wasn't a peaceful man. He reveled in war, in blood and death and chaos and suffering, he had proved it often enough over the years. Many people in the nation wondered what would be the future of Westeros, that with several foreign nations requesting aid to help then in their wars. The majority of the country didn't want war, others wanted it, and they all wondered what Joffrey would choose and what proposition he would bring that day before Congress.

It was his turn to go up to the podium, and when he was signaled to do so he got up there. He was met with applause from the congressmen, and the applause reverberated within the walls of Congress and filled the room and his ears with what sounded to him like thunderous glory. He had to fight hard to keep a smug smile from taken over his factions, and he stood up behind the podium and raised his hand to ask for silence. If it were up to him he would let those men and women applaud and applaud, and keep applauding until the end of time, applauding for him...

He felt great disappointment when the applause ceased, like a small child whose candy had been taken away, but he hid that disappointment behind a proud smile and looked at as many members of Congress as he could before he started speaking. The words came to him easily; he had memorized the entire speech days before he actually had to give it, and he had had help from the best writers to prepare it. The speech in itself was perfect, and all that was left to do was to interpret it. His wife Sansa was proud of being an amazing actress, but Joffrey was a very good actor as well. Hadn't he been fooling an entire nation for years? The facade had only been damaged when third parties intervened, but never before. And at that moment he was acting before Congress, he was interpreting the role that had been assigned to him, and he was determined to interpret it to the utmost perfection.

Everything was going perfectly fine and according to plan, or so he thought. Everyone in the chamber was listening to what he was saying with great interest, and the only distraction that there was was the flashes of the cameras in the back. Joffrey had already gotten used long ago to the cameras flashing everywhere around him, so he didn't even notice them. However, the first real distraction came when a phone rang in the back of the Congress chamber.

It was just for a second, and the journalist whose phone had rang picked it up immediately and ran out if the room. It must have been quite an important call to leave the place just like that in the middle of the Presidential speech, but no one paid him further attention. Joffrey continued giving his speech undisturbed when suddenly he heard a second phone going off. This time it wasn't a call, it was just a text, but it was loud enough for everybody to hear it. Joffrey ignored it and continued speaking.

The third time a cell phone rang it did bother him, though. He shifted his gaze from the congressmen to the are where the journalists were and glared at them for just one shirt second, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of how the journalist that was the owner of the cell phone was looking at the screen reading the text message that he had just received, and for some reason his eyes were wide with amazement and shock. Joffrey didn't even have time to wonder what the journalist was so shocked about, and he didn't care. He only cared about finishing his speech successfully, and thankfully there wouldn't be any more distractions.

His wished wasn't fulfilled. Not even five minutes had passed when another loud " _beep_ " was heard all over the place. Joffrey clenched his jaw but he didn't glare at the journalists again. He soon realized that they weren't at fault that time, but that it had been one of the congressmen's phone that had received the message. The man had was staring at the screen of his phone with the same shocked expression as the journalist. The man passed the phone over to the woman next to him, who read the message and almost gasped, as if she had read some terrible news. Joffrey fought the urge to frown and wondered what the hell was going on, because either everybody was receiving bad news at the same time or everybody was receiving the same message.

Even though he couldn't hear any more cell phones ringing or beeping he could see the light of their screens appearing all over the place. Suddenly everybody was taking a look at their phones, and Joffrey had no clue what was going on. He was especially confused when he saw the same reaction in everybody's faces: shock, disbelief, and in some cases horror.

_Is something happening in the country?_ Joffrey wondered when he saw people reacting that way to whatever was in their phones. But if something bad was happening, why wasn't he being informed? He was the President, for God's sake! _If I see one more phone I swear to all the gods that I will forbids their use in this fucking chamber._

Suddenly one of the congresswomen sitting in one of the front rows tried to take a subtle look at her phone (quite unsuccessfully, truth be told) and immediately after she read the damn message that everyone seemed to be receiving at the same time she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand in shock. Joffrey continued speaking, he had to give that goddamn speech. But his tone of voice had turned monotone because of his confusion and the distraction that all the people with their phones were created. He heard himself stammering a little bit when the woman suddenly raised her gaze and glared at him with the most hurt and hateful look that he had ever seen anyone (apart from his wife, of course) giving him.

Congress was chaos all of a sudden. No one was even trying to hide the fact that they were looking at their phones anymore. Phones rang, and beeped loudly, and people started gasping and exclaiming and shouting. Joffrey stopped talking, knowing that it would be completely useless to go on with the speech at the moment, and he looked around feeling completely lost. He wanted an explanation to what was going on, but no one gave it to him. Even though people were being loud he couldn't really understand what they were saying. It was obvious, however, that they were angry about something, and many seemed angry at Joffrey himself.

The flashes of the cameras had become unbearable, and it was driving Joffrey crazy. He was about to try to call order in the chamber and ask what was happening, but before he had the chance he saw from the corner of his eyes how someone stood up from their seat, and he looked in that direction and found his uncle, Senator Kevan Lannister, walking towards him.

_Finally, someone is going to tell me what the hell is happening!_ he thought, feeling irritated about the whole situation.

But when his granduncle Kevan got to the podium where Joffrey was standing he didn't stop to give him any explanations. Instead, the senator grabbed his arm and pulled from it to take him away from the podium and towards the exit.

"What is going on?!" Joffrey hissed. He could hear the shouting of everyone in Congress becoming louder, and many even started booing; he had never in his life witnessed something like that.

"We have to go, now," his granduncle Kevan said, pushing Joffrey towards the exit. They were immediately surrounded by Joffrey's bodyguards and escorted outside. Before leaving the Congress chamber Joffrey could hear one word being shouted louder than the rest:

_"Murderer!"_

He tried to turn around to look at the person that had shouted that to him, but it was too late, he was already in the corridor. Kevan and his army of bodyguards took him as fast as they could through the building towards the exit. On their way there they crossed oaths with several people that hadn't been present at the speech, but even they looked at Joffrey with shock and confusion and fear, and they stepped back when Joffrey passed near them.

Soon they were in the street, ready to get in the car that was waiting for them. Joffrey wasn't expecting to find an army of journalists outside the gates of Congress, but he was shocked when he was suddenly hit by the light of all the cameras flashing at once. Some journalists were more daring than others and they tried to get closer to Joffrey and ask him some questions, but the bodyguards pushed them back. Joffrey managed to walk towards the car and get inside of it. His granduncle entered the car after him and then the driver started driving away immediately. Joffrey looked through the rear window to see the journalists taking hundreds of pictures of the car driving away with the President inside, and then he looked at Kevan looking for answer to all his questions.

"What the fuck did just happen?!" He was very upset. Everything had gone wrong, and there was nothing that he hated more in the world than his plans failing. Especially when he didn't know why that had happened.

" _What happened? **What happened?!"**_ Kevan repeated his grandnephew's question as if it was the most outrageous thing in the world, as if he could it believe that Joffrey was asking such a thing. Joffrey wasn't an idiot, he had an idea of what had happened. Hadn't he heard that man yelling "murderer" at him? There was only one reason why he would be called that, and it was because someone had found out the truth and spread the word. He just wanted to know exactly how that had happened. "You are in a lot of trouble, that's what happened! You are all over the news, all over the internet! Gods, if this had been handled quietly then we could have a chance to fix it, but not like this!"

"Who are they saying that I killed?" Joffrey asked, choosing his words as carefully as he could. His grandfather Tywin was the only one that knew exactly who and how he had killed them. Sansa knew as well, of course, and his mother knew that he had been behind Ned Stark's death, but that was it. No one else knew the truth, or at least no one else had known until then.

It didn't escape his notice the way in which his uncle glared at him. The senator looked stressed and very, very worried, and he clearly didn't know how they were going to deal with the situation at hand. Joffrey looked a lot calmer, even though inside he was burning with rage. He just didn't understand how someone could have found out the truth and leaked it to everybody like that. He had been so careful, and he had managed to fool everybody for so long! So why now?!

"Everybody," Kevan hissed then as an answer to Joffrey's question. "The Starks, Greyjoy... Gods, Joffrey, do you know what this means?!"

Of course that he knew what it meant. He would lose everything.

"It's a lie."

" _Is it?"_

"They have no proof!"

" _They do, Joffrey!"_ Kevan almost shouted. " _That's the point! Do you know who Varys is?!"_

"Yes, what about him?"

"He leaked _everything_! He found the murder weapon of Ned Stark... **_with your fingerprints all over it!"_**

"That's impossible," Joffrey said immediately. He didn't care about trying to convince his granduncle that he was innocent any longer, it didn't matter. "I have that dagger."

"Then how did he get this?" Kevan asked Joffrey, giving him his phone. Joffrey took it and looked at the picture on the screen, and he felt the blood being drained from his face as he looked at the picture of the dagger with which he had so cruelly killed Ned Stark years ago. He had n doubt, that was it. Joffrey had stared so many times at the dagger, admiring the blade, that he had memorized every single drop of blood on it, the exact shape and tone of them all... That was the dagger. But it couldn't be, that dagger was in the Red Keep mansion!

"I don't understand..." he murmured, suddenly at a loss of words.

"It's proved that the blood is Ned Stark's and that the fingerprints are yours."

"It could be a trick, it could be fake..."

"You have no way of making people believe that," Kevan muttered, shaking his head from side to side. "You won't convince them. It's not just the dagger, Joffrey, there are witnesses."

"The only witness is Sansa!" Joffrey hissed, much more aggressively that time. He wasn't calm anymore, not after seeing the picture of the bloody dagger in Kevan's phone. He was starting to feel afraid. He was never afraid, but he couldn't help feeling like that when he saw things quickly spiraling out of control. "Meryn and Boros were there too, but they would never talk! And Sansa can't."

"I'm not talking about witnesses of Ned Stark's murder! There are witnesses of Theon Greyjoy's nursery, and Robb Stark's and his family as well!"

"That crash was an accident and Greyjoy was attacked by fucking sharks!" Joffrey yelled. "How on Earth could anyone think that there are going to be witnesses to that?!"

"You weren't careful enough!" his granduncle yelled back at him. "The men that you hired to throw Theon Greyjoy to the sharks talked! They have said everything! Varys knew exactly how to find them and how to get the information right out of them!"

"But how?!"

" _He's Varys!"_ Kevan yelled, as if that was the only explanation necessary. It was, really. There wasn't anything that anyone could hide from Varys, the master of spies. "He did the same with the men involved in the plane crash."

"The people that manipulated the plane so that it would crash are dead."

"But the owner of the company, Walder Frey, _is not_."

Joffrey cursed under his breath and punched the leather of the seat behind him. He yelled full of frustration and anger. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't. Everyone had betrayed him, and as a result he was sinking into the depths of a dark hole that he wasn't sure how to get out of. What was he supposed to do now?! The truth was out. The world knew that he was a murderer, and even though he always found a way to get out of trouble, that was not something that he could get rid of so easily. He would be prosecuted and he would lose everything. The mere thought made him feel like he was choking, and at the same time it made a deep bloodlust awake inside of him.

Kevan sensed the distress that his grandnephew was experiencing and he took a deep breath to calm down. Nothing would work out if everyone was losing it.

"We are going to go to the Red Keep mansion, you will be safe there," the senator said as calmly as he could. "Your grandfather is already trying to fix this mess."

Joffrey was about to say something else, but he fought the urge and he remained silent. He felt as if his head was about to explode. All he wanted was to close his eyes and fall asleep and hope that when he woke up again everything would turn out to be just a nightmare. He wanted all, and he wanted the people that had unveiled his secret six feet underground.

He wasn't so lucky. He never got to close his eyes and find peace, because he was too distracted watching the streets of King's Landing through the car window. The car drive past streets and people and left them behind in a second during an uninterrupted ride to the Red Keep mansion, but it started slowing down when it was about to enter the ground of the mansion. A loud noise was heard over the sound of the engine of the car, and Joffrey found a crowd gathered at the gates of the mansion. They were normal people, and they suddenly surrounded the car while it stopped in front of the gates. Some of them were carrying posters with messages that looked like they had been written in a rush, and they protested angrily and chanted in unison and shouted and yelled and booed at the car where they knew that their President was.

**_Murderer. Killer. Tyrant. Usurper. Monster._ **

"How did they get here so fast?!" he asked. His granduncle Kevan shook his head and sighed, defeated.

"Varys knows what he's doing. In a second the news where everywhere. You saw how quickly he angered the people in Congress, it must have been even easier to convince the people that are against you of your crimes."

Joffrey looked out the car window at the people that angrily and loudly protested against him and demanded justice to be made. He thought that they were all fools, justice would never be made. He wouldn't give up so easily. If war is what they wanted, they would have war.

"Get these people out of here."

There were already security personal people that were pushing the crowd back enough so that the gates could be opened and the car could drive into the mansion grounds. It took. Many men to push the crowd back, and from the distance some of them threw things to the car, like eggs and rocks. Joffrey felt immensely released when the car was already inside the mansion grounds and the gates were closing again; he felt safe. But he knew that he was only safe for now.

But security reasons the car was taken into the garage and only then was Joffrey allowed to get off the vehicle to go into the mansion. He found everybody gathered in the main hall of the mansion, looking worried sick. His mother Cersei sad hysterical, and she ran towards him relieved when she saw her son there. He didn't have time to let his mother know that he was alright so he ignored her. The only person that he wanted to talk to at the moment was his bra father Tywin, but the man was nowhere to be found. His mother seemed to read his mind.

"Your grandfather will fix everything, Joff," she assured him, though she should know better than to think that it would be as easy as that. "He is in the office."

Joffrey was about to leave and go to the office, but he was stopped by a furious Tyrion Lamnister. Joffrey doubted he had ever seen his uncle in such a mood, and that doubt was confirmed when Tyrion suddenly slapped him full in the face, ignoring the guiros protests of his sister. Joffrey put his hand on his burning cheek while Tyrion pointed at him with an angry finger.

" _You idiot!"_ his uncle yelled. " _Is it true?!"_

"Tyrion, stop!" Cersei demanded angrily, but Tyrion ignored her as always.

" _Is it true?!"_

" _It is_!" Joffrey shouted, unable to contain himself. "I don't know what you have heard or seen or read, _but yes! Everything is true!_ I cut Ned Stark's throat with that dagger, I hired those assassins to kidnap Theon Greyjoy and turn him into shark food, and I paid Walder Frey an outrageous amount of money to make his plane fall off the fucking sky! " he sounded crazy as the words came out of his mouth, because the more that he said the more liberated that he felt. Joffrey thought that it felt amazing to boast about the lives that he had taken and how, and he wondered how he had managed to keep all that a secret. It was a thousand times more satisfactory to yell all the truth to the world and let them know that he would do anything, literally anything, to get what he wanted. He also loved the look of absolute disgust and shock in his uncle's eyes. Joffrey didn't know if Tyrion wanted to get as far away from him as possible or slap him again.

"You made Sansa watch as you killed her father..." Tyrion hissed, trembling with anger, " _and then you forced her to marry you...?"_

Joffrey shrugged. "I did. So what?"

"You are a monster..."

Far from insulting him, Joffrey took it as a compliment. A sadistic glimmer shine in his dark green eyes while he glared back at his uncle.

"Speak for yourself, Imp."

It looked like Tyrion was about to jump on Joffrey and hit him as hard as he could, but he didn't have a chance to. At that moment Tywin Lannister had entered the room, and everyone looked at him in silence. Tywin Lannister was a man that always knew how to keep his emotions to himself, and he always appeared very calm and stern in an intimidating way. That day it was the same, but his expression was much darker, more worried. Joffrey didn't take that as a good sign; that was when he started to panic.

"We can fix this, right?" he asked, being the first person to speak since Tywin had arrived. His tone of voice reminded everyone of a schoolboy that had done some terribly mischievous thing and was afraid of facing a horrible punishment from the adults. Tywin Lannister sighed and then he shook his head. Joffrey looked at him in disbelief. What did Tywin mean with that? They couldn't fix that mess? There had to be some way in which they could fix it! "We are the most powerful family in the nation, and you are telling me that we can't do anything?!"

"It's not that easy this time."

"Everyone has a price!"

"It's not enough, Joffrey. People have realized that you stop at nothing to get what you want. You are dangerous," Tywin said, maintaining his tone calm "You will be impeached. You will be removed from office, and you will be charged and sentenced. There is nothing we can do, not this time, not with this."

Joffrey felt the world crumbling at his feet all around him. Years of carefully planning and executing plans, of interpreting his role to perfection, of fighting for what he wanted with all he had... All that was about to become ashes that would be blown by the wind. He felt a tight sensation in his chest, and for a second he thought that he couldn't breathe. He buried his hands in his hair and grabbed locks of his hair, pulling from it like a crazy person. He turned his back on everybody and walked towards the window. The crowd was still there at the gates of the Red Keep mansion, and more and more people seemed to keep arriving to join them in their protest. They wanted to get him out.

_Come and take me if you want,_ he hissed in his mind.

"I won't be impeached," he said. "Over my dead body. And I won't be sentenced."

"Joffrey, everyone knows the truth-"

"They can know whatever they want! They can't do anything to me as long as I'm here. If they try to take me I will kill them all!"

"Do you want to cause a war, you idiot?!" Tyrion exclaimed, outraged. "Not only have you doomed yourself and those around you, now you want to take us all to hell!"

Joffrey didn't listen to his uncle. He wasn't listening to anyone, really.

_They can't take this away from me..._ he kept repeating over and over in his mind, like a madman. He was mad, he just didn't want to admit it. How else would he have done everything that he had done, had he not been completely insane? But he was a madman that knew what he wanted. He wanted power. It had taken him long a lot to get his hands on the power that he desired so much, and he wasn't going to let go of it now.

Not now, not ever.

* * *

Sansa stared out the window and watched the crowd growing around the grounds of the Red Keep mansion. As First Lady she should have been worried about the current situation, but she couldn't be happier. She had been watching TV earlier that day when suddenly the broadcasting of Varys's discovery about the President had happened. She watched amazed as the man that was the worst nightmare of a great number of politicians and powerful people in Westeros and all over the world revealed to the entire nation the whole truth about Joffrey. She watched and listened as he revealed that the murder weapon of her father had been found and that tests had been run on it. Those test confirmed that the blood on the blade was her father's and the fingerprints on the handle were her husband's. And in case that that wasn't enough, there were also videos and voice recordings in which several men admitted and confessed that they had been bribed and hired by Joffrey to carry out terrible crimes or to simply let them happen and take the fault for it, like the plane crash that had killed Robb, her mother and Talisa and that almost killed her. Within minutes the whole country was uprising and protesting against Joffrey. It had been months since people started suspecting that there was something odd about the man, ever since Sansa escaped the plane crash and reacted so aggressively to Joffrey at the funeral, so it was away to believe what Varys was saying, specially since he had proof to support his claim.

Sansa knew that it wouldn't be long until she could get out of there. She didn't think that she would have to wait until Joffrey was impeached and sentenced, maybe she could walk right through the gates of the mansion and the people would protect her!

_Oh, Sandor..._ she thought while she caressed her enormous belly. She felt full of hope, _it won't be long now until I can see you again!_

She was lost in her thoughts when she heard someone knocking on the door of her room. Before Joffrey found out about her affair with Sandor she had to spend some night next to her husband and some nights in her old room, depending on the mood that Joffrey was in, but since that night she had moved back to her old bedroom forever. She looked at the door and told whoever wasn't the other side to come in, and she gasped with surprise when the person turned out to be Gendry.

"Gendry!" she exclaimed, both happy and worried to see him there. She took a few steps towards him and hugged him. "What are you doing here?! I thought you were staying in Europe."

"I was," he nodded. "But I called Sandor. He told me that-"

"You spoke with Sandor?!" Sansa gasped, and she felt an explosion of happiness inside his chest at the same time that a big and broad smile lightened up her face. "I haven't spoken to him in so long! How is he? Is he okay?"

"He is, everything is fine. He is worried about you, though."

"If you speak to him tell him I'm fine, and so is his child. But now tell me, what did he say to you? Why are you here? Are my brother and my nephew alright?" she had so many questions that she couldn't wait to ask them all.

"Bran and Ned are perfectly safe and fine, otherwise I would have never left them there," Gendry assured her with a soft smile. "I am here for my siblings. I have been in contact with Sandor for some time and he told me recently that the truth would come out today. I was hoping to get Tommen and Myrcella out before the shitstorm started."

"I see. Where are you taking them?"

"Nowhere, it seems," Gendry sighed, sounding tired. The dark circles under his eyes gave away that he was exhausted from the flight. He look a few steps towards the window and looked at the crowd gathered outside the fence that surrounded the mansion. "I'm too late, it seems. Joffrey is locking the place up."

"He's doing what?!" Sansa exclaimed, alarmed. She hadn't been downstairs when Joffrey arrived, so she didn't know how he had reacted to the whole situation. "He can't!"

"He can. He is still the President and he has no intentions of ceasing to be. He has given orders to the guards on the roof to shoot anyone who tries to come into the mansion. Soon this place will look like a prison surrounded by soldiers."

"You can't be serious," Sansa murmured. As soon as she said it the shouting of the crowd became louder as their protesting intensified. There were so many people already gathered in front of the gates that there wasn't enough space for all of them. The people that were standing in the front lines of the crowd were pushed forwards by the ones behind them, and those people were slammed against the barred gates. As soon as the crashed against the gates, a loud noise, louder than any other, was heard from the roof of the mansion. It was the guard who had just shot in unison to the air, as a warning to the people to not come any closer. Many yelled and stepped back, while others just started protesting louder.

At Sansa's side Gendry sighed again.

"I think it's going to take a little more than that to get us out," he murmured looking at the shouting crowd. Then he raised his gaze and looked to the sky, towards where the bullets had been fired as a warning. "But it's going to take a lot more than that to keep _her_ out."

Sansa didn't understand at first what he meant by that. Then she saw the little grin in the corner of Gendry's lips, and she knew exactly who he was talking about.

"She's coming?" she asked, full of hope. She hadn't had new of Arya for so long, but now that she saw that expression on Gendry's face he couldn't be talking about anyone else. Gendry looked at her then, and his grin became wider. There was also some concern in his face, though, but he was able to hide it well.

"She promised you she would come, didn't she?" he asked. "What better time to do it than now?"

For all their sakes Sansa hoped that he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! They caught him, finally! Now they just have to get him!
> 
> I'm sorry that I rushed this chapter a little bit. I wanted to make it slower but I tried and that just made it tedious. 
> 
> I hope you liked it! And I hope that you liked what's coming!


	55. Red Keep Down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! I'm back! 
> 
> I'm sorry for my absence. Finals, holidays, reunions with family and friends... I'm seeing people that I haven't seen in five years, so that's keeping me busy! But I really wanted to update this chapter, it's one of the chapters that I've been dying to write!! 
> 
> In case that I don't update until the new year (which is likely): Happy New Year!!!! :D 
> 
> I hope that you all had a great and happy Christmas. And if you don't believe or celebrate that, then I hope that you are having a wonderful time nonetheless! ^.^ 
> 
> Enjoy!

Soon a week had passed, and things didn't seem to get any better. In fact, they were getting worse. Joffrey knew that he didn't have any chances of convincing the world that the accusations against him were a lie- which they weren't- so he didn't even try. More and more information against him kept being released everyday, and it couldn't be stopped. All his secrets were revealed, and his public image was completely destroyed with the truth. No one knew where Varys was getting all the information from, but then again, he was Varys. He wasn't known worldwide as the Master of Secrets because if nothing. Unable to stop the world from getting to know his true self, and unable to leave the mansion without the risk of being arrested or attacked by the crowd, Joffrey had threatened anyone who dared come anywhere near the mansion. That didn't stop the civilians from gathering everyday at the gates of the Red Keep mansion to protest to have Joffrey removed from Office and arrested, which would happen as soon as he set a single foot outside the mansion. However, as long as he remained inside, its walls and guards would keep him safe. What wasn't so clear was for how long that would be. Many nations had already offered their support to the people of Westeros, and Joffrey had been declared a public enemy. Sooner or later he would have to face the ultimate consequences of his crimes.

Sansa had spent her days looking outside her window at the protesting crowd, who for days and days had been shouting things and holding up posters with hateful messages against Joffrey, demanding justice. Sansa's heart was warmed when she saw many people demanding her and her brother to be set free. She had also been the focus of many television shows, in which the torment that she must have suffered during her years at her husband's side must have been like was discussed. While a small minority believed that it was all an act and that she had supported Joffrey in everything, the vast majority believed the truth. The revelation that she had had to witness her father's death, been forced to marry his murderer, and narrowly escaped death in the plane crash in which her family had been killed had sent the country into an outrage. It hadn't helped when Varys had released pictures secretly taken during moments between Sansa and Joffrey, where part of the abuse that she had endured was visible. Sansa had been able to see some of the pictures on TV before the Lannisters had forbidden her to keep watching the news. The picture that had actually shocked her was one from her wedding. She didn't know that Varys had gone to her wedding; maybe he had sneaked in without anyone noticing. That wouldn't be surprising. He had taken a picture of a moment in which Joffrey was glaring at Sansa and grabbing her hand, and the expression on Sansa's face was one of pure dread and sorrow. Sansa remembered that moment. She had stayed so out during the entire ceremony, but at that moment she had felt like she couldn't continue anymore, like she was going to break. She had avoided Sandor's gaze the entire time until then, and as soon as her eyes met his she had wanted to run to his arms and have him take her far away from there. She had hesitated, Joffrey had sensed it. And now the entire world could see that her wedding day had been the day when her life had become a nightmare from which she couldn't escape.

Until now. Now she just had to wait a little bit longer...

Gendry had told her that Arya was coming, so Sansa knew that she would get out of that mansion one way or another, either because Joffrey finally gave in and was arrested and impeached or because her sister came and forced the Lannisters to set her free. She hadn't seen or spoken to Arya in years, but if Gendry said that she was coming it must be because he knew something. Besides, he had a look in his eyes when he mentioned Arya that suggested to Sansa that he did indeed know something. Had he seen her? Had she called him? Gendry didn't tell, but Sansa trusted his words and waited patiently day after day for her sister to finally come. She was afraid, yes; she didn't really want her sister to be involved in that awful situation, but she wasn't just thinking of herself. She needed her brother and her child to be safe, and Arya could help. Sansa just hoped that everything would be on until that happened. She put a hand over her huge belly; it wouldn't be that born until her child was born. Sansa hoped that when the time finally came she would be far away from that mansion so that her child could be welcomed into the world in a happy place and, most importantly, by his father. Sandor. Sansa couldn't wait a second longer until she was finally with him again. Every time that she closed her eyes she could imagine that she was with him. She visualized him perfectly, and there wasn't an inch of him that she didn't miss.

Rickon and Gendry had told her that she would be with Sandor soon, and she wanted to believe it. But, deep down, in the pit if her stomach, she felt something dreadful... Was something bad going to happen? She very much hoped not! But no matter what, she couldn't shake that feeling off...

She didn't want to think about it, she had enough to worry about with the way that things were at the moment. Joffrey was walking back and forth all over the Red Keep mansion, yelling and attacking anyone who crossed his path, and threatening everyone with blowing the country up before he was forced out of that place. Sansa knew that they were empty threats, but Joffrey made them sound so real...

It was getting late, and she was exhausted. Her pregnancy was making her energy levels run low, and the stress that she was experiencing wasn't helping the least bit. All she wanted to do was get in bed and forget about everything that was happening. She didn't know how she would get her much-needed sleep, though, with Joffrey constantly yelling. It was something that she could have tuned out in the past, but at the moment it was unbearable. However, her exhaustion won over Joffrey's yelling, and she fell into a restless sleep. She was still unable to shake that awful feeling off...

* * *

They were like shadows in the dark, invisible against the night setting of the city. None if the security guards that stood watch around the mansion and on the roof were able to spot them, no one heard them... It was as if they weren't there, as if they didn't exist. That was, until the first bullet hit one of the guards right between the eyes.

The heavy body of the man came crashing down on the hard surface of the roof. No one saw that happening, but another guard did hear the noise. He was about to turn around when second bullet hit him in the neck, making him drop dead as well. A third guard did see that happening. He was shot before he could do anything, but his warning shout was heard by the others, who turned around to find the three dead bodies. Some of them sounded the alarm, but by then it was too late.

Bullets seemed to come from everywhere, and none missed their target. In a matter of seconds all the guards on the roof had been shot down by invisible enemies, and only the ones that were in the garden surrounding the mansion were left standing. They noticed that they were being attacked when the bodies of one of the guards fell from the roof to the ground below, hitting it with a breaking sound. The guards in the garden took their positions immediately, ready to defend the mansion from any enemy, oblivious to the fact that they didn't stand a chance. The crowd of people that had been protesting outside the gates of the mansion suddenly fell silent, noticing that something was wrong and feeling confused by the events that were suddenly taking place.

There were a few seconds in which nothing happened, until suddenly someone hidden among the crowd shit at one of the guards, killing him. There were screams, and people backed away from the gates immediately. Many ran away in panic, but many other stayed and watched as a group of people dressed in black gear separated from the crowd and approached the gates, holding large and heavy machine guns that no one had noticed before. Others started emerging from hidden places, jumping off trees, and getting out of vehicles that had looked harmless before.

Some of those people that had emerged from the crowd started climbing the barred gates to cross over to the garden, while the rest stood where the were and shot at the remaining guards and soldiers that were pointing with their guns at the people climbing the gates. The people wearing the black gear and holding the heavy weapons had their faces covered by dark golden masks, which now caught a lot of attention from the people that were watching those events unfold. The guards that were trying to protect the mansion were all hit by the merciless bullets of the men in the black gear an golden masks, but backups had been called and now the military were approaching the scene. It didn't make a difference, though. As they arrived, more people in golden masks appeared out of nowhere, and they were ruthless.

Almost everyone had fled the scene, except for a few idiots that had their cameras out and were filming everything from the distance. Sirens could be heard from far away, getting closer with each passing second, but the people attacking the Red Keep mansion didn't care. A few of them had been shot by the military, but for each market person that had been killed three military had fallen. It was a bloodbath.

Three quarters of the masked men were already inside the grounds of the Red Keep mansion, and while some focused only in shooting the military, others approached the mansion. A few of them started escalating the building to the get to higher floors and to the roof, where they took the place of the guards that they had just killed a minute ago. Down on the ground, masked men were trying to enter the building. It wasn't hard. One of them, a tall individual, took an explosive out of his wide pocket and threw it at the main door, which exploded into tiny bits and pieces. Then half of the masked killers entered the mansion.

* * *

Sansa was awaken by a sharp pain in her belly. She was lying on her back in bed, and when she tried to sit up it was almost impossible. A second wave of sharp pain almost made her cry out and she felt years building up in her eyes, but she didn't shed any of them.

Slowly and carefully she sat up on her bed and she out her feet down on the cold hard floor. She took a few deep breaths with her eyes closed. She thought that everything was over, but as soon as that thought crossed her mind she felt the pain again. She opened her eyes and looked down at her huge and round belly.

"No," she murmured under her breath, with understanding in her voice, but also with distress. "No, no, no, no. You can't be born now!"

She was in denial until a fourth wave of pain shot through her body, and that time she did cry out. There was no denying it: she was having labor pains.

Well, if that was it she couldn't just stay there all night, she needed to get up. She needed medical attention! She had hoped to be already out of that place when her baby was born, so that she could have him at a decent hospital. She very much doubted that Joffrey would let her leave the mansion, but he couldn't just leave her there on her own! Could he? Sansa wasn't so sure at the moment. It was Joffrey after all, and he knew that the child wasn't his, so what did he care? Before he might have cared because he was trying to have a flawless public image, but now that image had been shattered... Though if anything happened to Sansa the whole country would jump at Joffrey's throat and tear him apart.

But Sansa couldn't think of the possible outcomes at the moment, all that she wanted was her baby to be born healthy and she needed help. She stood up from the bed as best as she could and she walked towards the door without putting a robe or her slippers on before. She walked towards the door, feeling the pain receding a bit. She took deep breaths as she went outside of her bedroom, and found the corridor completely dark and empty. Everybody was sleeping already.

"Just hold on..." Sansa murmured under her breath as she took slow and small steps down the corridor. It took her only a minute to reach Joffrey's room, but to her it seemed like an eternity. She opened the door and stepped inside, finding Joffrey fast asleep on the bed. It was unusual to find him sleeping lately; the still-President of Westeros spent his nights awake in his office, plotting and trying to find a way of getting out of that mess, all on vain. The signs of exhaustion were visible on his face. Sansa had never seen darker circles under anybody's eyes, but she didn't care. Joffrey deserved everything that he was getting and worse.

"Joffrey," she tried to shake him awake. "Joffrey, wake up!"

Her husband grunted in his sleep before slowly opening his eyes. His gaze was unfocused at first, but then he saw Sansa and he frowned.

"What?" he grunted, visibly upset about having been woken up on the middle of the night.

Sansa was about to say something when suddenly she was in pain again and she hissed, trying to stop herself from crying out. Joffrey's frown was replaced by a look of understanding. He didn't say anything, though, he just sat up on the bed and stared at his wife looking annoyed.

"The baby is coming," Sansa said, trying to get a reaction from him.

Still, no answer.

"I need help."

"Help yourself," Joffrey muttered, and he tried to go back to sleep without a care in the world. Sansa had expected such a reaction from him, but she really needed help and, much to her sorrow, that meant that she needed Joffrey. She shook him awake again, further annoying him.

"Joffrey! I need a doctor!"

"I don't care! It's not mine," he hissed. Sansa took a deep breath. She knew that it would be harder to deal with Joffrey since he no longer needed to keep up the cover that the child was his, but she was not in the mood and certainly did not have the patience to deal with his mean and stubborn character at the moment.

"I need a doctor, now," she repeated. "If anything happens to me or the baby it won't be very good for you. And you are already in enough trouble as it is."

"Fine!" Joffrey exclaimed, pulling away the covers and getting out of bed. "I'll call the fucking doctor!"

Sansa sighed, relieved, and she felt pain again. It was getting worse than before, but it was still bearable.

She followed Joffrey outside the bedroom. He made for the stairs, and Sansa wanted to go back to her bedroom and rest there while the doctor came, but Joffrey insisted that she go downstairs with him. Sansa didn't protest, because she thought that it would be better if she didn't annoy Joffrey more than she already had. It took a while to get Sansa to the first floor, but she managed, and Joffrey disappeared inside his office. Sansa was left standing in the corridor and leaning against a wall. She couldn't believe that she was in labor. She was both incredibly excited and terribly scared. She wished that she had her mother there with her to help her and guide her, or Sandor, but she had neither of them there and she would have to make do. What was really important was that soon she would have her baby in her arms...

At that moment Rickon came out of the kitchen, apparently after having gone there to drink a glass of water on the middle of the night. Rickon looked surprised to find his sister there, but when he saw the look on her face he instantly became worried and hurried to her side.

"Sansa! Are you ok? Is everything alright?"

"Yes... I'm having the baby," she told him.

Rickon's face immediately lit up with excitement and awe. It didn't matter that they were in such a complicated situation, he was going to be an uncle and that was all that mattered to him.

"Really?! I can't belie-!"

He never got to finish his sentence. Suddenly they started hearing a strange noise from outside... Were people screaming? And were those sounds that they were hearing gunshots?! Before either one of them could say or question anything Meryn and Boros appeared running and looking quite distressed, and they entered the office where Joffrey was making the phone call. Sansa and Rickon stood on the corridor, listening to what the bodyguards were saying. They didn't like one bit of what they heard.

"Mr. President! You have to come with us, sir!" said Meryn.

"What? Why?"

"The Red Keep is under attack, sir!"

"What do you mean, it's under attack? I told those idiots on the roof to shoot anyone who dared-"

"They are all dead, sir! This is serious, we have to go! Now!"

The screams outside intensified, and Joffrey didn't thin twice about it. He ran out of the office followed by his bodyguards. Sansa and Rickon were still standing in the corridor, in shock over what they had just heard. They kept hearing the screaming outside, and reality hit them. They were really being attacked.

"Arya..." Sansa murmured so lowly that only she could hear it. A smile threatened to appear in her lips, but that smile was wiped away immediately. Sandor had told her some things about how the Faceless Men were known to operate, and this attack was by their style. It wasn't them. It wasn't Arya. But then, who was it?

Sansa didn't know. All that she knew was that she was in danger as well as the rest.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she was picked up by Boros, who ran with her behind Joffrey down the corroded as fast as he could. Sansa knew where they were going: the Presidential bunker. It hadn't been used since the times of the war, when the mad dictator Aerya Targaryen had practically taken residence in it, but it would keep them safe. Rickon followed them.

"Meryn, go and find my mother, now!" Joffrey ordered, and the bodyguard obeyed and left. Meanwhile Joffrey, Meryn, Sansa and Rickon continued heading towards the bunker, located in the East wing of the mansion.

They were almost there when suddenly they heard an explosion. The noise came from the main entrance of the mansion. They heard steps and voices coming from that direction, and shouts could be heard from upstairs, as well as glass shattering.

"They are inside!" Boros hissed. "Hurry!"

Joffrey was the first one to reach the the steel doors of the elevator that led to the underground bunker. There was a lengthy password that had to be entered, and once Joffrey entered and his fingerprint the door opened, and they jumped inside the elevator. Suddenly Rickon froze.

"Myrcella," he murmured, going white.

The doors started closing almost immediately, right at the same time that a masked man appeared at the end of the corridor. He shouted something and started running towards them, but he didn't shoot. Rickon paid no attention to the man and tried to get out of the elevator, but he didn't have time. Sansa held his arm to keep him there, but the pain she was in made he weak.

"No, Rickon!" she cried.

"Myrcella!" Rickon yelled right before the door finished closing and the elevator started to descend, keeping the attackers out and all four of them in.

They were safe. For now.

* * *

Chaos took over the Red Keep mansion. The men that had entered the building had run into all the rooms, waking everybody up and dragging them out of their beds. The masked men killed all the bodyguards that were armed and tried to resist, and unarmed those who didn't fight back. Outside, the masked people on the roof and those who were on the ground were aiming their weapons at the people that were outside the gates, and kept out anyone who tried to get in. The police had arrived before, but a few warning shots from the masked men had been enough to keep them out. Reporters had also arrived at the scene, and cameramen were filming the events and footage of what was happening was being broadcasted to the entire country. Soon the whole world would witness what was happening at the home of the still-leader of the nation.

The military that were inside the mansion tried to out up a fight, but it was all in vain. They had weapons just as big and powerful and those of the masked men, but the latter shot then all down with an ease and skill that seemed inhuman.

"Red Keep down! Red Keep down!" was shouting the last man left standing, and he died with those words in his lips.

All the inhabitants of the mansion that were still alive were forced to gather in the drawing room. They were out down on their knees with their empty hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. There was Tywin Lannister, who was seeing red and glared at the masked men with a proud expression on his face, letting them know that he wasn't afraid. His son Tyrion was by his side. He wanted to get out of there alive, and he was afraid, but he was already thinking of a way to negotiate and get out of there. His bodyguard Bronn was by his side. Cersei Lannister was furious, but at the same time her expression was cold and hard like marble. Her children Tommen and Myrcella were by her side, shaking and sobbing. They were so young, and they were terrified. Jaime Lannister looked nervous, but his years in the military had made him experience situations that made him feel sure that he could get out of there alive. However, that didn't stop him from eyeing the weapons nervously. Gendry was there as well. He didn't look so good. He was furious, and when he was taken by the masked men he had fought with a couple of them. His eyes was turning black and he had a split lip. They hadn't killed him for fighting back, though, they had just hit him. Senator Kevan's expression was similar to that of his brother Tywin. He was not afraid by those men, or if he was he wasn't letting it show. The other people that were there were Meryn and Gregor Clegane, the only bodyguards apart from Bronn that were left alive. Arys Oakheart and the Kettleblacks had been killed on the bloodbath.

Eight people with golden masks stood in front of them, aiming their weapons at the hostages. The rest of the masked men were outside. The Lannistera glared at them while they tried to figure out who they were, and what they wanted. Who had sent them? What were they going to do?! They didn't have a clue, but they questions were answered soon.

Then a ninth man on a golden mask came into the drawing room. There was something different about him, like if he was more powerful, more dangerous, more important. Like he had control over everything. This was confirmed when he spoke, unlike the rest of the masked men, who remained silent.

"We are missing our guest of honor!" he exclaimed with a tone of voice that might have passed off as friendly in any other situation. His voice was soft yet strong at the same time. It was the voice of a young man who held power and authority in his hands. He approached the hostages and looked at them one by one. "Where is he?"

"Who are you?" Tywin asked. There wasn't an ounce of fear or hesitation in his voice, but there wasn't defiance either. He was just a man who wanted to know who his enemy was.

The masked man didn't reply right away, he just stared at Tywin Lannister. But, after a few seconds passed he did pull his golden mask off, revealing his face and identity to everyone and making some of the people that were there gasp with surprise and shock as soon as they saw the silver blond hair and the bright purple eyes. They recognized him immediately. They thought him gone. They thought them all gone...

Aegon Targaryen.


	56. Same Old War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Wow, it took me a long time to update this time! College is keeping me busy, but hopefully these days I'll have more time to write ^.^
> 
> I left you with a pretty cliffhanger in the last chapter hehe. Now You'll see what happens. This is somewhat fast-paced, and I might rewrite it, but I'm not sure. Anyways, here is the chapter. The ending is coming closer and closer, though it's not here yet! I have MANY surprises in store for you all who are still reading this :) I also have a lot of heartbreak in store... But good things too! Many of you call me evil, and you might be right, but c'mon, I'm also a gentle little thing that likes to give from joy from time to time! But yeah, be prepared for all kinds of things in the next few chapters... I'm just asking you to trust me, I know what I'm doing, I promise. Everything that I do, I've planned carefully. Also, I know that the plot is a bit crazy. Sorry, I invented it when I was still in High School and I was incredibly bored during one of my math classes and I suddenly thought "hey, let's write some extremely crazy SanSan modern AU, yay!"
> 
> I hope that you review, and please, ignore the autocorrect crap. I'll fix it, pinky promise. now I'm off to bed, cause it's morning already and I haven't slept!
> 
> EMJOY!

The shock of the revelation had left them all speechless. The silence was only broken by the noise of the commotion that was happening outside the mansion, where witnesses of the attack were standing, outside the gates unable to believe what had just happened. The only other thing that could be heard above the heavy silence was the sound of the hostages' ragged breathing and the muffled cries of Myrcella and Tommen, who couldn't take their eyes off the guns that were being pointed at all of them.

Aegon Targaryen looked at all of them one by one, taking in their shocked, confused, and even scared expressions. When his gaze fell of Tywin Lannister, the look in his eyes hardened and they seemed to darken a shade. The expression on his face was that of a very dangerous man. Tywin Lannister glared back at him, but all the effect that had was making Aegon smirk. He looked at the youngest ones in the room last, and his expression softened. Tommen and Myrcella's breaths caught in their chest when they saw the man looked at them, but they didn't cower in fear like children. They took a quick look at the rest of the family and straightened their backs and held their heads high, trying to be brave. Almost immediately Aegon's expression softened, and he turned around to look at two of his men.

"Get them out of here," he commanded. There was a bit of gentleness in his voice. "Take them somewhere safe."

The two men, whose faces were covered in golden masks just like everyone else's, simply bowed their heads and obeyed. They lowered their guns and released the two confused siblings from their bondages and helped them up to stand on their feet before taking them away.

"No, Mom!" Myrcella cried, holding out a hand towards Cersei, trying to reach her, but one of the men pushed her towards the door. "Mom, no! I'm not going to leave her! Mom!"

"Myrcella, go!" Cersei exclaimed, urging her daughter to stop fighting and take that opportunity to be free.

Both Myrcella and Tommen looked at their mother with eyes full of tears and fear, but after an encouraging nod from Cersei they finally yielded and allowed themselves to be taken away from there and out of the Red Keep mansion. All the channels were broadcasting live what was happening, and millions of people watched as the two Baratheon siblings were taken out of the mansion. There was a collective gasp from the people standing outside the gates when they saw the two youths coming out of the mansion snorted by two of the masked men, but everybody happily cheered as soon as they saw that both of them were set free. Myrcella and Tommen hesitated and looked back at the mansion for a couple of seconds, but then they ran towards the gates, which were opened for a brief moment so that they could get out and then they were closed again. A group of policemen that had arrived after the attack started immediately approached Myrcella and Tommen and they escorted to a patrol car to take them somewhere safe, away from there.

Inside the mansion Cersei heard the cheerful exclamations of the people and knew that her children were safe and she sighed, feeling an enormous wave of relief washing over her. That was all that mattered to her, that her children were going to be fine. Now she only had to worry about Joffrey, but he was also safe for the moment.

She was the only person in the group of hostages that wasn't tense anymore. Everybody else had their eyes locked on the guns pointed at them, on the golden masks of their captors, and on the smirking face of Aegon Targaryen. Tywin Lannister was the one whose attitude was prouder and colder, and he almost didn't even blink as he glared at the purple eyes of the young man standing in front of him. Aegon raised an eyebrow, amused by the defiance in Tywin's green eyes.

"Are you surprised?" he asked, speaking for the first time since he had ordered the youngest member of the family to be liberated.

"A little. I was expecting your aunt," Tywin said, keeping his tone ice-cold.

"Aunt Daenerys was going to come, in fact. But, as things go, she happened to meet someone in the Middle East... Now she is happily married, she has an adorable kid, many horses, a big house with a red door and a lemon tree in the yard in front of her window, jus like she always wanted..." Aegon told the man, narrowing his purple eyes as he spoke. "But she did tell me to send you her regards. I have to thank her, I wouldn't have gotten this far without her help. I wanted to share this moment of victory with her, but she already has a happy life, and I am very happy for her... That wasn't enough for me, though. I couldn't be happy, not until I saw all of your worthless selves here, in front of me, on your knees..."

"Is that why you have come?" Tywin spat. "For revenge?"

"Oh no, my dear Tywin. Revenge doesn't do it for me. I've come to get claim what is rightfully mine! A political career, a normal life... You know, what you and your dear son-in-law took away from me."

"We ended your grandfather's dictatorship, that is all."

"And you did well, the old man was a fool, he had it coming," Aegon admitted with calm. His voice and his expression were sincere, he truly wasn't angry about his grandfather's fate, and that confused the Lannisters... But there was a lot of anger burning with the force of wildfire in the young Targaryen's eyes, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. He took a few steps until he was directly in front of Tywin Lannister, and he crouched in front of the man to look at him directly in the eyes. "But the rest of us were innocent. My parents, my sister, my uncle, my aunt, my grandmother... What guilt did we have for my grandfather's crimes? He was a dictator, a tyrant, and the rest of us just happened to be his family. But this blasted country didn't give it a second thought before forcing all of us into exile! No one even cared that my parents were killed. We were forced to leave our lives behind and try to love again, far away from home, with everyone treating us like we should be ashamed of being who we are! We had to depend of the charity of others, and we never had the opportunity to pursue our dreams, no matter where we went, who we asked..."

"You won't get anything by coming here and killing us! You are digging your own grave!"

"On the contrary, I have a bright future here," Aegon corrected Tuwin with a smile full of satisfaction on his face. "You see, the world hated my grandfather, the awful dictator, and they hate my family... But there is someone that they now hate as much, if not even more, than they hate us. Your grandson."

"Stay away from Joffrey!" Cersei a Lannister hissed furiously, but Aegon ignored her.

"It didn't take a lot to discover what he had done to Ned Stark. In fact, it surprised me that no one figured it out sooner!" he exclaimed in a mocking and shocked tone. His smirk never left his face. "After I knew what he had done and that he was running for Presidency, I knew that I finally had a chance of coming back, and I would do it triumphantly. It was even better when he started killing his way through the elections. Oh, the joy of knowing that no one was discovering his dirty little secrets! All I had to do was wait for the right moment to use all that information in my benefit. That's why I had to keep him alive, I actually saved him from some people who were trying to put him six feet underground. He was of no use to me dead! Until now, of course."

"Do you really want to kill Joffrey? How is that going to help you?"

Aegon laughed. He actually laughed that time, like a small child that was watching his favorite comedy show in TV. There was pure joy in his beautiful and almost inhuman purple eyes, and his face lit up with amusement.

"How is it going to help?!" he repeated, almost as if he couldn't believe that the man was asked such a question. Wasn't it obvious? "Oh, Lannister, you are so naive! Allow me to finish my little story, I'm sure you will understand everything once I do. You see, you offered me the country in a silver platter. Joffrey did most of it, unknowingly, by being such a sociopath. The entire country hates him. Seven hells, the entire world hates him! I've already told you, all I had to do was wait until the information about him became public. I didn't want to wait so long, but that accursed Robb Stark won the elections and everybody loved him. I was trying to figure out a way of getting him out of my way; after all, his father was involved in my family's downfall as well... But he was just too perfect, and it was going to be hard to get rid of him. I was lucky, though, because then my spies found out that Joffrey had bought Frey's loyalty and he was going to stage a little accident, and that was just perfect for me. It was all I needed for my plan to work. Once Joffrey's hands were stained with the blood of so many loved and innocent people, he practically handed the presidency over to me. I knew that his wife and her lover- oh, yes, I know all about that!- were trying to out him, so I provided a little help without them knowing. I sent Varys to contact Clegane, and he did what was necessary. Varys has always wanted a Targaryen back in power. And now that Joffrey is refusing to stand down from power and hand himself over to the authorities, there is nothing that can save him. He is the villain, he is a great threat to the nation. And I will be the hero that saves it. Everybody will love me, and they will welcome me back and beg for my forgiveness."

Everybody had fallen silent after his confession, horrified by his plans that had been made years ago and had been carefully executed. It was clear to them now that Aegon Targaryen wasn't joking, he really was there to destroy them and take back the power and his bring his family name back to it's former glory, and he had no qualms about what he had to do in order to do it. There was something in him that reminded all of them of Joffrey. Aegon, just like Joffrey, could appear to be the perfect golden boy if he wanted to, but he was very dangerous, and now he had them all at his mercy. His smirk was particularly similar to the Joffrey's. It was the same power-hungry and charming yet angry smirk that hid a core of madness underneath a thick layer of cleverness and deceit.

"You are mad!" Tyrion Lannister exclaimed, speaking for the first time since he had been dragged into the drawing room. Aegon glared at him with amusement.

"Maybe. But I will get what I want."

"You won't," Tywin insisted. "The people will see you as a murderer. Killing Joffrey will get you nowhere, you are just a mercenary."

"You are mistaken," Aegon said, and his voice turned colder, harder. There was something dark hidden in it. "I will be saving thousands of lives from the cruelty of you grandson. Once the people know the truth-"

"More truth?" Tyrion mocked, earning yet another glare from Aegon.

"Yes, more truth. Joffrey isn't just refusing to stand down, he is also dead set on fighting hard, no matter how many lives it costs to the country," once he took in the confused expressions that took over everybody, including Tywin, he smiled again. "He didn't tell you, did he? I thought you knew all his plans and secrets."

"Tell me what?"

"About the bombings. The bombings that he planned to attack his new enemies. He doesn't want to go down without a good fight, if he's doomed he will doom the entire country with him. It's just like what my grandfather wanted to do, but... you stopped him," he murmured, turning his attention to Jaime Lannister, who was on his knees and completely silent, almost invisible until then. "And just as you stopped him back then, I will stop Joffrey now, but not without letting everyone know what his sick plans are. Varys is broadcasting all the information about the bombings now. Believe me, everyone will want me in power after they see that and know that I came to save them."

" _Don't touch my son!_ " Cersei Lannister screamed. She tried to get back on her feet with the full intention of throwing herself against Aegon and hit him and scratch him and hurt him and do anything that was necessary to stop him from hurting her beloved eldest son. However, being tied up as she was, there wasn't much she could do. One of the masked men held her down, but she tried to fight back. Aegon looked at her with a bit of admiration, but he was also annoyed by the interruption. " _I will kill you! If you touch my son I swear I will feed you your own eyeballs!_ "

"Charming."

Jaime Lannister suddenly used the distraction that his twin sister had caused to his advantage. He had managed to get untied without anyone noticing, and using his excellent military skills he had gotten up on his feet in a second and had punched the masked me that was standing by his side in the face, knocking him out and taking his machine gun. Before anyone could react Jaime was already shooting many of the masked men, who dropped dead as soon as Jaime started firing the weapon. He was too fast and too lethal, and for a second it looked like he was going to make it, like he was going to kill them all and free his family.

However, there were too many masked men, and the ones that were left reacted quickly. Jaime was already aiming the machine gun at Aegon, ready to shoot him and kill him, when suddenly give different masked people aimed their guns at him and shot at the same time. Before Jaime could shoot, all the bullets hit him. He shook several times in the air because of the force of the impact, and he dropped the gun. Then his lifeless body dropped to the floor, covered in wounds and blood. He had tried, he had really tried, but he had failed.

"JAIME!" Cersei shrieked. She tried to go next to her dead brother, but they stopped her. " _NO! JAIME! JAIME! YOU MONSTER!_ " she screamed at Aegon, who was I gazed by the situation. Everyone else was pale and completely horrified. Tyrion Lannister looked like he was about to break down in tears, and their father had an expression on his face that no one had ever seen before on him, not since his wife had died. It looked as if his world had shattered in a million pieces, and it was all crumbling to a like of scattered ashes at his feet. His son, his beloved heir, his golden boy... was gone. For once in his entire life Tywin looked speechless and scared.

Cersei was still crying and screaming, but she was silenced when Aegon aimed at her head with his own gun. "Shut up, or you will be next!"

With a lot of difficulty Cersei tried to calm down and remain silent, though she was unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face. Everyone stared at Aegon no longer trying to be brave and proud. They were really scared now, and devastated, and that made Aegon smile once again. He didn't enjoy other people's suffering, but he was enjoying the fact that he was winning. He looked at all of then in the eyes.

"Now, you are going to tell me how to get into that bunker. My men are working to break the security system, but that is going to take time and, honestly, I have waited enough," he said, speaking very clearly and carefully, almost gently. He raised his gun in the air as he spoke. "Or I will have to do this the hard way. Who is going to be next?"

* * *

 

Sandor had gone that night to the nearest pub to get a decent drink. His sister didn't have any alcoholic beverages in her house, and she refused to buy any when he requested her some. She insisted that alcohol was bad, and Sandor was forced to go outside if he wanted to simply havens drink or get posses drunk. He knew that he shouldn't be doing that, he couldn't risk being seen by anyone that would recognize him and tell Joffrey where he was. That his former boss had let him go once didn't guarantee that the little fucker wouldn't change his mind and send someone to hunt him down and kill him, specially after the knife incident. Joffrey had to know that he had been involved, it was impossible that he hadn't linked him to that. Sandor just hoped that Joffrey hadn't discovered that Rickon had helped him, or that Sansa had also been somewhat involved. He hadn't heard any news about them in weeks, and he was worried, but he had chosen to believe that they were alright. Joffrey was already in a delicate enough situation as it was to get more shit thrown on him, so it wasn't convenient that he hurt any of the remaining Starks if he didn't want to anger the world even more. Sandor couldn't wait until that whole mess was over, and he could be with his little bird again. She was due to give birth soon, and he hurt at the thought of not being able to welcome his child into the world. Things looked even worse with each passing day, and even though he wasn't a religious man he found himself praying so that Joffrey didn't decide to do something completely stupid and hurt Sansa and their child in an act of revenge or pure anger.

That was the reason why he needed a drink so urgently; he just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't sit in his sister's couch all day, not doing anything but watch TV and staring at the ceiling. It was driving him crazy. He had left the apartment that night while Michelle was working on the hospital in the night shift. She was being so good to him, so caring and understanding. It felt nice to have a family again, someone who shared his blood and loved him. Sandor had almost forgotten what that felt like, and being with his sister was the only source of happiness that he had as of late. He just wished that the situation was a better one.

The bartender already knew him well after visiting the pub so many times, and he was already serving him a glass of beer even before Sandor sat down on a stool in the bar. He made a small gesture of gratitude with his had and started drinking, wanting to drown himself in alcohol and pass out to forget all his hardships.

"You don't look so good today, Clegane," the bartender commented, noticing the pitiful state of the man. Sandor shrugged.

"I've had a rough couple of years..."

"That bad, huh? Well, don't pass out in my bar again. It's fucking difficult to move around a man as big as yourself, and I don't want to deal with your angry sister again when she comes to pick you up!"

Sandor only managed to give a half-hearted half smile to the man, not feeling in the mood to joke around but also not wanting to be completely rude. His little bird had changed that in him. In the last he hadn't given a single fuck about being nice or rude to the people, but ever since he met her and fell in love with her and spent time with her he had changed for the better somehow. His change was mostly only with her, but he had noticed a change in behavior with other people as well. Sansa had awoken the gentle side of him again, the side that had been hidden from the world since he was a child and suffered the cruelty and abuse of his brother and later of everyone else.

The bartender noticed that Sandor needed to be alone with his thoughts and left to serve other clients. Sandor continued to drink, lost in his thoughts and memories and regrets and worries and hopes, not really minding anything that was going on around him. It wasn't until someone exclaimed loosely that he came back to reality, and he noticed that everyone around him had their eyes fixed on a small TV in a corner of the ceiling of the pub. Most night what was broadcasted was sports and other kinds of silly programs that had no interest whatsoever for Sandor, but that night was different. What he saw immediately caught his eye, and he put all his attention on the news. There was footage being shown of the Red Keep mansion, and he didn't like what but what he saw. Dead bodies on the lawn, armed men wearing golden masks...

 _What the fuck...?_ Sandor thought, not understanding what was going on. But then it hit him, and his eyes widened with horror and shock as soon as he read the caption at the bottom of the screen. The Red Keep mansion was being attacked... and Sansa was inside. "Fuck!" he cursed, but no one paid him any attention. He wouldn't have scared, anyways. _No no no no, this can't be happening, it can't, no, please... Little bird!_

The newscaster spoke, delivering the news of what was happening. Apparently, the leader of the attack had already made himself known. It was Aegon Targaryen, and he had send made public some interesting information about Joffrey that added more to the pile of shit that the President already was buried to the neck in. The whole country was in an outrage after learning what Joffrey had done and what he was planning to do if a war broke out, which was the most likely thing given the situation. He had ordered several important places to be bombed, as he would not tolerate to go down without destroying everything around him first. Aegon had provided the world with all kinds of proof on that that his spies had recently found. Documents, phone conversations, recordings... Joffrey had definitely hit rock bottom...

 _He's mad!_ Sandor thought, but that wasn't news to him. He had know for a long time already. The whole country already also knew thanks to the information that he had provided to Varys that the President was a monster, but now everyone was seeing that Joffrey would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. The same people that were horrified before about the attack on the presidential mansion were now shouting and chanting, demanding Joffrey's head.

For a second Sandor felt good. There was no way that Joffrey would get out of that! But his joy was short-loved, because Sansa was also inside the mansion, and that meant that she was in grave danger. He could just stay there, he had to do something!

He quickly paid for the beer that he hadn't gotten to finish and he ran outside the pub. He didn't have his own car now that he wasn't working anymore, but that he was able to take Michelle's car because a coworker had picked her up and given her a ride to the hospital. That's some fucking good luck, Sandor thought as he ran towards the apartment building and into the garage, junking inside the car. He had been lucky that he had decided to take the car keys when he left the apartment, just in case he needed them for some reason.

"I'm coming, Sansa," he muttered to himself as he started the car and sped out of the garage. He sounded desperate. He just hoped that it wasn't too late, that Sansa or his unborn child hadn't been hurt in any way. "I'm coming... Please, just hold on, little bird..."

He literally had no plans. He didn't know how he was going to get in, or what he was going to do or how he was going to fight against all those armed men that were all over the Red Keep mansion, which had turned into hell in the last hour, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to get there, and then he would do anything that was in his hands to save Sansa. He would do anything in his power to get her out of there, even if it was the last thing he did...

As he furiously drove through the streets of King's Landing, not giving a fuck about the speed limit or the road signs, he started quickly thinking about a plan that might work... Whatever, he didn't care, he just needed to get into that mansion and get out with Sansa, and quickly, before something went horribly wrong.

He had a strong feeling that something like that was going to happen...

* * *

 Not much had changed inside the Red Keep mansion in the last half an hour. The crowd of people outside the gates kept growing bigger and bigger by the minute, the exclamations and shouts and chants of the people kept becoming louder and louder, all of them protesting against Joffrey and cheering Aegon, applauding his actions. Aegon contemplated everything through the window, unable to stop smiling to himself after witnessing that spectacle. He found it incredibly amusing how easy it was to change people's minds. Not even an hour ago the barely knew him by his name, but they simply hated him because of who he was, because of his surname, because of the sins of a member of his family. Now they loved him, just as he had predicted. It had been a very risky plan, that he knew. It could have backfired in a thousand different ways, but he had had faith and he had been confident that it would work, and there he was now. In the Red Keep mansion from which his grandfather had once led the nation, fairly in the beginning, cruelly in the end. That had condemned Aegon and his entire family to years of living like criminals, always hiding, always running, always bowing their heads in shame and trying to get as little attention as possible to avoid any kinds of conflict. Aegon had grown sick and tired of it. All he wanted was to be back in his homeland, take back what he had lost in such an unfair way, and pursue his dreams. He wanted a political career, one that would take his nation to the upmost glory. He was unable to do that in a foreign country, so if he wanted his dreams and ambitions to become true he had to return, and he hadn't stopped to rest for a single second until he had managed that. He had done the impossible; he had travelled the world to find men and women loyal to him, that would serve him. Military and mercenaries that would do anything for him, that would help him on the most difficult parts of the journey. He had had to stay one or two steps away, always. One step ahead of Joffrey, of the Lannisters, of the Starks, even of the Faceless Men… That had been hard, but he had managed it, and now no one could stop him.

 _I did it, Joffrey,_ he thought to himself as he looked outside the window, observing he angry crowd who didn't seem to be bothered by all the dead bodies on the lawn anymore. _I've won…_

Or so he told himself, though it wasn't completely true. He still had to manage to get into the damn bunker, which was proving to be a bit more difficult than he had hoped, but his most capable men were already working on that. Soon the door would be open, and they would be able to descend into the bunker and get to Joffrey. The people were already asking for his demise, angered beyond every limit by the information that Aegon had released to them. He hadn't lied, Joffrey was really planning to blow up several cities, towns, and important places if things went very wrong for him. He still had enough control and power and people loyal to him to give the order. The knowledge that he had killed the Starks and Theon Greyjoy and had done many other horrible things had already angered Westeros and turned the world against him, but the information released today was the straw that broke the camel. No one would forgive Joffrey for that, and if they didn't already think he was a monster before, they sure did now. Aegon knew he had struck gold when his spies told him about the planned bombings. Joffrey had literally given him Westeros in a silver platter.

Aegon would have wanted to do everything in the normal way and have a normal life and a normal career, but since that hadn't been possible, he had been forced to do what he was doing. And he didn't regret it one bit. Seeing the result that he had obtained proved to him that it had been worth it. Westeros didn't hate him anymore. On the contrary: just as it was planned, he had become their savior in the blink of an eye.

As soon as he broke into that damn bunker, he would deliver Joffrey's dead body to them, and then he would be ready to receive his reward.

The hostages were refusing to accelerate the process and tell him how to get into the damn bunker. He knew that at least Tywin Lannister knew how to get in, and he wasn't sure if Kevan also knew. He knew for sure that Jaime Lannister had known how to get inside, but they had had to kill him. That stupid idiot had tried to escape and kill them all, but he hadn't been able to take on all of them. What he had done was a suicide move, really. There was no way that he had really thought that he could stand against all of them alone and win! Maybe that was just was desperation did to people…

He wanted to kill them, all of them. He had a particular hatred for that family since the civil war, and also for the Starks and the Baratheons. He knew that there were two Starks in the mansion, but they were inside the bunker as well. Aegon didn't plan on hurting them, though. That would just ruin his plans, because the whole world wanted to see them be freed from Joffrey's claws. Besides, the First Lady was pregnant, and her younger brother was just a kid. He couldn't hurt them; he wasn't a monster! That was why he had let Tommen and Myrcella Baratheon leave, because they were too young and they did not deserve being in that situation because of their family's sins. Aegon did not want to see people put in the same position as he was put after the civil war. However, he still wanted his revenge. He had already had a little bit of his revenge against the Lannisters with the death of their precious Jaime, and he would soon have more of his revenge after killing Joffrey and becoming the new President of Westeros. He couldn't wait for that to happen…

But killing Joffrey wasn't enough revenge against the Baratheons. Joffrey identified more with the Lannister family, anyways. Aegon found the solution to his little problem as soon as he laid eyes on one of the hostages: Gendry Baratheon.

Aegon looked at Gendry with disgust. He was a carbon copy of his father Robert, who had usurped the power from the hands of Aerys Targaryen. When he looked at the young man, Aegon saw nothing more than the man that he had hated intensely ever since the war. He knew that Gendry had ever been involved in politics and that he was innocent, but Aegon didn't care. That was his flaw, and it was that he couldn't let go of the past. He wanted to put a bullet in the forehead of that man that resembled so much the man that was the symbol of the defeat that the Targaryens had suffered. Aegon knew that he should be patient. He was very good at waiting; he had done it for years. But he couldn't do it anymore.

He turned to look at Gendry, who was on his knees, tied like all the other hostages, Cersei Lannister still cried over the body of he beloved twin brother, and Tyrion Lannister had gotten sick and emptied his stomach on the carpet in front of him. Tywin and Kevan were the only ones that remained completely calm, apart from gendry and the bodyguards. The latters were almost invisible in that whole situation. Aegon glared for a moment at Gregor Clegane. He had heard rumors that that giant man had had an unfortunate encounter with his mother in the past, but he didn't know whether those rumors were true or not. He intended to find out later, and if it turned out that they were true, Clegane could be assured that he would not have the mercy of a quick death. But what was important to Aegon at the moment was Gendry, and making him become a corpse just like Jaime Lannister, who was on the floor surrounded by a pool of his own dark blood.

Aegon took a step towards Gendry and he raised his gun, aiming it at the man's head. Everyone gasped, as they were not expecting that, and Gendry's eyes became wide. He was scared, though he was trying not to show it. There was more defiance in his eyes than anything else, but still Aegon could see the distressed look hidden behind the man's bright blue eyes. It didn't bring him pleasure to make people suffer, he wasn't Joffrey Baratheon... But he wanted his revenge, and he wanted it badly, even though deep down he knew it wasn't fair. But life wasn't fair, was it? So they just had so suck it up.

"What are you doing?" Gendry asked, alarmed and unable to take his eyes off the gun in Aegon's hands.

Aegon took a few seconds to reply. The room was filled with a tense and deadly silence that wasn't interrupted anymore even by Cersei's mournful cries. She had become silent, just like everyone else, and they all watched as Aegon continued to point his gun straight at Gendry's forehead. If he shot then, he wouldn't miss.

"I'm sorry," he said, not the least bit genuinely apologetic. "You are next."

He was about to pull the trigger when he felt a slight movement behind him, and he knew, deep within himself, that something in his plan had failed. Something was wrong; he couldn't see it, but he could feel it... It was very wrong. His failure was confirmed as soon as he heard a female voice speaking behind him.

"No, you are," were the last words he heard. "Valar Morghulis."

The masked woman behind him, who everyone had thought to be a man until then, had raised and aimed her gun at the back of Aegon's head as soon as he had started his attempt to kill Gendry. Before he could do anything, the woman pulled the trigger. A loud _bang!_ filled the drawing room, and the bullet quickly entered through the back of Aegon's head, piercing his skull and his brain, and exited through a small hole in the right side of his forehead. The bullet went on to bury itself on the wall on the other side of the room, and Aegon's lifeless body fell on the floor. Before anyone could quite register in their minds what had just happened, four other masked people raised their guns and aimed them at the other masked men and before anyone could react they shot them all dead. One of the masked men loyal to Aegon managed to pull the trigger of his gun, but it was right after he was shot in the chest by the man standing next to the woman. His shot went in the wrong direction and it ended up hitting Senator Kevan Lannister in the chest, instantly killing him. Tywin Lannister did react that time, shouting angrily at the death of his brother. No one listened to him; that place was mayhem.

In a few seconds everyone but the remaining hostages and the five traitors in golden masks remained alive. The hostages looked at them with eyes wide with shock and confusion. Then, the woman that had shot and killed Aegon Targaryen lowered her gun and pulled off her mask. Underneath the golden mask was a young woman, with short ash-blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes and a face full of freckles. No one recognized her until she pulled off her wig, revealing short straight brown hair underneath, and she took off her contact lenses, letting them see the real grey color of her eyes. Then she started peeling off her own skin, or rather the fake skin that she had put in to become someone new, someone that wouldn't be recognized. But now that was gone, and everyone in that place was able to recognize her. Gendry couldn't believe his eyes.

"Arya!" he cried with joy, but also with worry.

The other four people also took off their masks. Jaqen H'ghar was the man standing next to Arya, and he pulled off his dark wig to reveal his original red and white hair. The other three were other Faceless Men. Arya ran towards Gendry and kneeled at his side, taking out a knife from her pocket and cutting his bondages to free him.

"I told you I would come back," she told him. She sounded extremely angry, and with reason. She had just stopped her boyfriend from being mercilessly killed. As soon as Gendry was freed from his bondages he grabbed Arya's face between his hands and he kissed her. It was a brief kiss, but intense and passionate nonetheless. There was relief in that kiss, and gratitude and love and worry and a hundred other emotions. Arya's expression softened as she looked at Gendry, and she ran a hand through his hair. It looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't. Her expression hardened again. "You have to leave. Now."

"What?! No!" Gendry protested. The other Faceless Men were busy untying the other hostages, except Tywin Lannister, and no one was paying any attention to the couple. "Arya, I won't leave you here!"

"I'm not asking!" she insisted. It was then that shouts and screams and shots could be heard from the corridors outside the drawing room. The other men than Aegon had taken with him to take over the Red Keep mansion were being surprised in that very moment by the Faceless Men disguised among them, and war was breaking out inside the mansion. Arya looked worried. "Gendry, please, this is not going to be pretty..."

"That's why I can't leave you here, come with me!" he insisted.

Gregor and Meryn, who had been among the hostages, used the distracted state that everybody was in to break free of the bounds, and they took some weapons and cowardly ran out of the room. Arya saw them in the last minute and cursed when they left, but she wasn't quick enough to shoot them. She threw an angry glare at Gendry.

"You are leaving. Now," it wasn't a request, it was an order. With one single look Gendry knew that he had nothing to do with that argument, that Arya wouldn't change her mind. She had come with a goal and she wouldn't stop until she succeeded, but he also knew that she would take him out of that place even if she had to knock him out first. Reluctantly, he agreed, and Arya's expression softened then. "Everything will be alright," she promised.

Gendry doubted that, but he trusted her. They both stood up on their feet and, after sharing an intense look, Arya walked way from him and towards Jaqen, who was standing next to Tywin Lannister. The man had finally been untied, but Jaqen was holding him down. Cersei and Tyrion had been freed and they were leaving; only Cersei stopped and looked back. She frowned when she saw that her father wasn't coming with them. Tyrion didn't care, he just left. One of the Faceless Men forced Cersei to keep moving, and she reluctantly left and went towards the main entrance of the mansion, where she could head then to safety.

"I'm letting her go because of Tommwn and Myrcella," Arya told Tywin once everyone had left. Only she, Jaqen and Gendey were left in the drawing room, not counting all the corpses around them of course. "They don't deserve to lose their mother like I lost mine, even after she condoned Joffrey's actions and his behavior... But you won't be so lucky. You were his accomplice."

"Are you going to kill me?" Tywin asked, though he already knew the answer. Arya knew that he knew, so she just returned his ice-cold glare. They had met a couple times in the last. Tywin Lannister had thought that she was a fascinating girl with a lot of potential. He would have never in his wildest dreams have thought that she would bring him his demise. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"I'm just enjoying the moment. Just so you know, this is personal," she said right before aiming her gun at his head and pulling the trigger.

Just like Jaime and Kevan and Aegon before him, Tywin's limp body fell on the carpet, right next to his brother. He was dead, and at last part of Arya's promise was fulfilled. She didn't necessarily feel better, but she did feel like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders.

The shooting continued in the corridors. Outside the mansion, no one really knew what was going on. It was complete chaos.

"We have to go," Jaqen told Arya. She nodded, and together both of them and Gendry left the drawing room, throwing themselves head first into the war zone that the mansion had become.

* * *

 

Things weren't going much better in the bunker than they were going outside. In fact, the situation couldn't be worse.

Establishing communication with the outside was proving to be impossible. Somehow the people that had attacked had managed to hack part of the system and leave them completely isolated and unaware of what was going on. They didn't know who was attacking or why, or if things were better now or worse than before. They knew nothing, and they didn't know whether they were safe or in danger or if the others were alive or dead.

Joffrey and Boros had retired to be side of the bunker while Sansa and Rickon remained together in the opposite side. Sansa had sat on the hard and cold floor, wishing there was someplace more comfortable in there. Her labor pains were not getting any better, and she felt that the stress and the fear were just making the pain of the contractions to be much worse than it should. She tried to keep quiet, but she couldn't. She was panicking. Was she going to give birth there? She didn't want to! What is something went wrong? What if someone got complicated? What if her baby was sick, or if she needed urgent medical care?! Sansa felt like she was suffocating. Rickon sensed her distress and held her hand. When Sansa felt pain she squeezed her brother's hand, and it somehow made her feel safer and stronger.

But her cries were annoying Joffrey. He hadn't stopped pacing all over the place, and he was going mad because of the lack of knowledge of what was going on outside and because of his wife's cries. She tried to keep them down the best she could, but it just wasn't possible. In the end, Joffrey snapped.

" _Will you cut that out?!_ "

"Shut up, asshole!" Rickon angrily exclaimed. He too was very distressed with the whole situation. Sansa knew that he was panicking because Myrcella was outside, and she felt terrible that she hadn't been able to make it to the elevator. But she was happy that her brother was safe and there with her.

" _She is driving me crazy!_ "

"Suck it up!"

Sansa did her best to remain as quiet as she could. It was bad enough to be locked up in a bunker with Joffrey while she was in labor, and she didn't want to make that horrible even worse by angering him. The problem was that he was already angered, and he wasn't getting any better.

"This is all your fault..." Joffrey muttered under his breath as he paced around the bunker. "It's your fault..."

Rickon wasn't in the mood to be messed with either. He glared at Joffrey. " _Our fault?!_ "

" ** _Yes!_** " Joffrey shrieked. He was hysterical, and the look on his wide eyes was psychotic and dangerous. "I know that you were involved... The truth... It is all because of you..." He wasn't speaking to Rickon, but to Sansa instead. "Everything was perfect until you opened your big fucking mouth! None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you, you worthless fucking whore!"

"Hey, watch it!" Rickon shouted, but Joffrey ignored him. Sansa didn't say anything, she just glared at her husband, unable to utter many coherent words at the moment.

"They all want me dead because of you... I should have killed you long ago, just like I killed your stupid daddy, and your brother and your mother," Joffrey hissed, and slowly his voice became taunting and mocking. He even laughed. It was a laugh that send icy shivers down their spines. "Yes, I should have done that. Perhaps it isn't too late... Perhaps I still can."

Before Sansa could fully understand what her husband was just said, Joffrey approached Boros and took his gun without the bodyguard's consent. Boros tried to stop his boss, but it was too late. And the worst thing that could have happened while being locked inside a bunker with Joffrey Baratheon happened in the blink of an eye.

Joffrey pulled the trigger. He wasn't an expert with fire weapons, he always chose other ways of killing his victims, though he was no stranger to them. But he shot with the cold-blood and the expertise of those that have a terrible body-count on their back. Joffrey's wasn't the longest, but it was cruel and brutal, and inhuman. All murder was inhuman, and to him murdering was as easy as breathing the air around him.

The bullet flew straight towards Sansa. For a fraction of a second Sansa really thought that it would hit her, that Joffrey was finally killing her and her baby. That was the worst fear, apart from Sandor getting hurt. But Sandor wasn't there, and she was glad. She was glad because like that she wouldn't have to see him get hurt, and he wouldn't have to see her get hurt.

The bullet was about to hit her. She was going to die, she knew it. She had made it that far, but in the end Joffrey won.

Then Rickon jumped in the way, and the bullet hit him right in the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahaha. Aegon didn't last very long... Or did he, really? One can never know... But who needs two evil masterminds when you have Joffrey AND Arya in the same building?! FINALLY!
> 
> I can't tell you how much I've been dying to write the next chapter. I hope I can post it soon!Oh, just so you know, I was going to kill Tyrion off but my mother convinced me to spare his life. I was also going to kill Cersei, but I felt merciful tonight. And two more people that were supposed to die are being spared as well, but you will see who they are! Someone else has taken their place, but oh well, had to happen.


	57. Girl I Will Cover You When The Sky Comes Crashing In.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I am sorry, I said yesterday that I would update yesterday, BUT MY INTERNET WAS GONE!
> 
> Here I am, back with another chapter. There are less and less left until the ending! Hopefully soon I will get rid of a lot of work and I will be able to post almost every day like I did in the summer... 
> 
> So, here is what happens after Aegon is killed. I have been dying to write this chapter. I had pages full of notes of every single tiny little detail that I had planned for this... AND I LOST THE DAMN PAGES! But I remembered most of it, though some bits were changed, but it doesn't matter. Here's the chapter!
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the song World on Fire, by Les Friction.
> 
> I am new at writing modern action scenes, but I tried, I swear I did. Please let me know what you think, ok? ;) Now I'm off to do homework.
> 
> ENJOY!

Sandor broke all the traffic laws that it was possible to break in a single night in less than fifteen minutes, but he didn't care. All he cared about was arriving at the Red Keep mansion, see what was happening, and getting Sansa out of there as soon as possible before some tragedy happened. He had no idea of how he was going to break into the mansion and manage to save her. He had no weapons, just his bare hands to fight with them, and he didn't have a clue of what was going on inside the mansion. He only knew what he heard in the radio, which wasn't much. He was listening closely to what they were saying, and he knew that Myrcella and Tommen had been liberated by the men that had attacked the place. d reveal in their shocked state. Sandor was panicking. He wouldn't feel like that if the people that had attacked the Red Keep mansion were Arya and the Faceless Men, but that wasn't the case. As soon as he heard that the men were wearing golden masks he knew that they were dealing with the Golden Company, and he let out a long list of angry curses while he drove. The Golden Company was formed with many of the deadliest men in the entire world. They were skilled fighters and mercenaries who fought and killed for money and didn't have a code. Getting inside the mansion and getting Sansa out would be the most difficult thing ever, but he had to risk it. He couldn't leave Sansa in there, alone and in danger.

By the time he arrived at the Red Keep mansion that place was complete chaos. The road was blocked by dozens of police cars, and an intense crowd of people had formed in front of the gates of the mansion. The sight was quite impressive, for all those people were gathering together, chanting Aegon's name. Sandor stared at them in shock. _Unbelievable. You spend two decades hating that family and now you call that name as if he was your god just because he wants to deliver you the head of your current enemy..._ Sandor thought while he looked at all those people, and he felt sick. Witnessing that proved him that Westeros was not a safe place to be. In that country the people knew no loyalty; everyone was sold to the highest bidder. But then was would be of Sansa? Would they forget about her and allow Aegon to hurt her just because he was trying to get rid of Joffrey, who had turned from Westeros's most beloved to most hated in a matter of minutes months ago? Maybe they would deem Sansa a worthy sacrifice if that meant the dismiss of Joffrey, and Aegon would bother sparing her like he had spared the younger Baratheons. Sandor would walk into hell willingly if that meant that any harm would be spared from Sansa and his unborn child. He approached the gates to try to get a better view of the mansion and what was happening, but it was difficult because of quantity of people that had gathered there in the last minutes. One would think that they had all gone to the safety of their homes after witnessing men killing all the security at the presidential palace in a matter of seconds, but no, everyone was staying there to get a better look at the spectacle.

He could see some members of the Golden Company on the front lawn of the mansion and others on the roof. They were all wearing golden masks and holding large machine guns in a very intimidating way. Sandor knew that he had no change of successfully breaking into the mansion with those men in there. Even if he had gun he wouldn't make it past halfway the front lawn; he would be shot down and his death would be in vain. He needed to find another way of getting in, and he needed a weapon...

He was trying to think of a plan when suddenly all hell broke loose. All of a sudden a man ran out of the mansion through the front door. He was wearing a golden mask and carrying a machine gun, so it seemed obvious that he was a manner of the Golden Company. That wasn't true. The man shouted a word in a foreign language, but Sandor had been around enough foreigners to recognize the word: " _Now!_ " the man had shouted. A fraction of a second later many of the men wearing golden masks turned around to face other men from the company and they opened fire. The crowd gathered outside the gate Stooped changing Aegon's name and started screaming, terrified, and many ran away while other simply ducked to the ground. Sandor was one of the latter, and he felt shocked and confused as he witnessed the massacre. Half the men that had been outside the mansion were now dead, and those that had opened fire on them had taken off their masks and thrown them to the side. None of them stayed where they were; instead they entered the mansion, and shots started to be heard.

 _Arya,_ Sandor thought then, after putting two and two together. He was almost sure that those men that had killed their partners were Faceless Men, it was the only thing that made sense! Arya must have finally kept her promise. If that was the case, then Sandor felt extremely relieved. Things would be much easier if he could count with Arya's and her friends' help.

There was no one left in the front lawn, or at least no one that was alive. Sandor took his chance and ran towards the gates of the mansion, and he climbed them and then jumped over them to the other side, entering the mansion's grounds. He ran towards the body of one of the men that had been shot down and he took his machine gun and his handgun. Sandor wasn't a big fan of machine guns, he had always had very strong opinions about them and insisted that they were weapons fit for cowards who did not dare to have a fair fight, but he didn't have time to stick to his beliefs and opinions anymore. He put the strap of the machine gun over his shoulder and then ran towards the mansion. He was about to arrive at the entrance when he heard shots nearby. Sandor decided not to enter the mansion through the main door then, and he chose to go around the building and find another way in that was safer. However, he stopped running when he turned his head to look back and saw Gendry running out of the mansion.

"Gendry!" Sandor shouted, making the young man stop and look at him. Gendry was shocked to see him there, but then he looked relieved. "Where is Sansa?!"

"She's in the bunker!" Gendry shouted, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the gunshots. He looked back at the mansion then, and Sandor could see how worried Gendry was.

"Where's Aegon?"

"He's dead! Arya's inside, she is trying to get Sansa out!" Gendry told him. The sound of gunshots got louder then, and Sandor made a gesture to tell Gendry to get away.

"Leave before someone kills you!"

Gendry looked reluctant to leave, but he obeyed. Sandor watched him run towards the gates and only resumed his way after he had made sure that Gendry had arrived to safety. It took Sandor a couple of seconds to arrive at a back door that the service used, which he found open. It was broken, so is was easy to guess that one of Aegon's men had forced it open to get inside during the first attack. Sandor held his gun up, ready to shoot and kill anyone that posed as a threat. That part of the mansion, the kitchen, was empty, and so he entered the place and walked towards the door to go into the hallway. The sound of gunshots was louder there than it was outside, but Sandor wasn't as scared as he had been before. Now he knew (well, he thought) that Sansa was safe from danger in the bunker, where no one from the Golden Company could get to her or hurt her. Arya was trying to get inside, so Sandor just had to go there and help and everything would be fine...

Those thought evaporated when he was halfway through the hallway, making his way towards the bunker. A man turned the corner at the end of the hallway, and he was wearing a golden mask. The man shouted something in a foreign language that Sandor did not understand and he raised his machine gun and aimed it at Sandor. Sandor had very quick reflexes and he managed to drop to the floor in time to dodge the storm of bullets that were shot his way. Before the mercenary could aim at him again and shoot him, Sandor raised the gun that he had stolen from the man in the front lawn and he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the mercenary in the chest and the man fell backwards, dead. Sandor couldn't catch a break, though, because at that moment another man appeared behind him at the other end of the hallway. Sandor rolled over and dodged the bullet that hit the floor where he had been lying, but he wasn't quick enough to aim his gun at the man and shoot. He was about to get killed by the man, but then two unmasked people turned the same corner that the first man had turned, they aimed their guns at the second man, and killed him. Sandor looked up to see who his savior was and he was able to breathe with relief when he recognized Arya's friend, Jaqen.

"Get up!" the red and white-haired man urged him, and Sandor did as told. "Move!"

"What's going on?!" Sandor demanded to know while he followed Jaqen and the other Faceless Man.

"We are killing the enemies. Aegon Targaryen and the Golden Company were the ones that targeted Arya to protect Joffrey from her. We infiltrated them."

"Protect Joffrey?! But five seconds ago I saw on TV-!"

"Aegon's plan was very long and we don't have time to discuss it now. All you need to know is that he needed Joffrey alive to kill him in the right moment, and that moment was today. We could have let him do that, but Joffrey's death belongs to the Faceless Men. It's been paid for. And everyone else was in danger. He was going to kill all the hostages until Arya shot him. Tywin Lannister and Jaime Lannister are also dead."

"Tywin and Jaime? Did Aegon kill them?"

"Only Jaime. Arya killed Tywin."

"Wait, so is he dead? Joffrey, is he dead?"

"No. Joffrey is in the bunker."

Sandor felt as if a giant bucket of ice-cold water had been dropped over him, soaking him to his core. He almost stopped running, petrified, and he stared at Jaqen with eyes wide with horror.

"Sansa is locked in there with him?" that was probably even worse than if she had been captured by Aegon's men! Maybe Aegon would have let her go, like he had done with Tommen and Myrcella, because she was pregnant and because she was a Stark and the entire country was demanding justice for them. And if not, surely Arya would have been able to get her out by now, just like she had done with Gendry. But if she was in the bunker with Joffrey, God knew what could be happening down there! Sandor knew Joffrey; he didn't handle stress well. He could snap at any second...

"Nothing will happen to Sansa, Clegane," Jaqen tried to assure Sandor, but he was convinced. What did the assassin know? Nothing, he knew nothing, and Sandor would only believe that Sansa was fine when he saw her with his own eyes.

They finally arrived in at the end of the hallway where the bunker was. They weren't alone; Arya Stark and two other Faceless Men were already there, working on how to force the elevator doors open. Sandor didn't even bother trying to tell them that should be impossible. Nothing was impossible for the Faceless Men, and they were fully prepared. While the two men worked on the elevator and the man that was with Jaqen and Sandor joined them, Arya turned around to look at Jaqen. She was surprised when she saw Sandor there.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning. She was aware that he had been fired.

"Did you really think that I was going to stay at home watching TV while your sister is trapped in this hellhole?" he asked rhetorically, and Arya rolled her eyes.

"Great, now we have to take care of you too…" she groaned. She turned her attention back to Jaqen. "Make sure he doesn't get shot, ok?" Arya noticed the way in which Sandor was glaring at her, offended by her total lack of confidence in him, and she raised an eyebrow. "One of the most skilled assassins in the world was shot in the back of the head and his brains are now all over the floor. Do you really think you will be any harder to kill if any of these sons of whores try it?"

"I don't need a babysitter, I just want your sister out of here, safe and sound."

"And she will want you to be alive when we get her out of here! So shut up and do as I say!"

Sandor wanted to protest, but he chose not to. He couldn't argue with the only person that wanted the same as him, to get Sansa out of there alive and well! If that meant having to put up with Arya's orders then so be it. None of that would matter one they got out of there. Besides, Arya knew what she was ding, didn't she? She had managed to infiltrate the Golden Company and kill Aegon Targaryen, and she was still alive. Sandor had to trust her. He did trust her, but he was anxious and scared.

They were all startled when they heard shots right above them, in the second floor of the mansion, and people shouting and running. Sandor looked behind them to make sure that there wasn't anyone in the hallway where they were, and he was relieved when he saw that they were alone… for now. Arya looked at the three men working on the elevator.

"How much longer?!" she asked, a bit impatiently.

"We are almost done," said one of them.

"Well, do it faster!" Arya urged them, and they kept trying to open the elevator doors. Sandor was starting to really believe that it was hopeless when suddenly they heard a very loud noise from within the elevator, like a very loud "CLICK!", and one of the men put his hands on the doors and pushed them apart, revealing the elevator shaft. Sandor noticed then that there were four harnesses on the floor connected to ropes with hooks on one ending. Arya picked them and gave them to Jaqen. "Find an anchor."

Jaqen H'ghad followed Arya's orders and left. While he was gone Arya and two of the Faceless Men out on three of the harnesses, leaving one on the floor. Sandor stared at it, but Arya shook her head. "No, you are not coming," she said before he could even open his mouth. Sandor wanted to protest, but just like before, Arya didn't allow him to. "I said no! You haven't been trained, Clegane!"

"You are going to deal with Joffrey down there," he reminded her. "You didn't do a great job killing him the last time!"

Arya scoffed while she glared at him. "And whose fault was that?" she spat. "Besides, you've had more chances to break his pathetic little neck, and I see he's still alive and well!"

Sandor had to bite his tongue not to snap at the Stark girl. It would be smart, getting in a fight with her at that moment. They could quarrel all day long after that awful night was over. Jaqen came back then.

"I found anchors."

"Are they secure?"

"Yes."

"Good. Guys, go!"

While Jaqen H'ghar put on his harness, the two other men that had put on the harnesses pulled from the ropes to make sure that it was safe to go down the elevator shaft with them, and once they were sure of that they started descending. Sandor approached the open elevator doors and looked down the shaft and watched the two men descending. The bunker was several hundred feet away from there, but he could see the elevator at the bottom. How where they going to access the bunker if the elevator blocked the entrance and there was no way into it? Sandor was wondering about that when suddenly the answer came. He could really see well because of the darkness, but he could see the two men taking something small out of their pockets and throwing it to the elevator. Those small things hit the top of the elevator, lit up, made a beeping noise... And then there was a small explosion. Very small, but enough to throw Sandor back from the elevator doors. Jaqen pulled him away from there and then he and Arya joined the other two Faceless Men inside the elevator shaft. A whole big enough to fit a big person through had been opened by the small explosions. One of the Faceless Men stayed in the hallway with Sandor, aiming his machine gun at the other end of the hallway in case any enemies approached. Sandor couldn't tear his gaze off the bottom of the elevator shaft. The others had already disappeared inside the elevator and were probably now accessing the bunker. Sandor didn't know what was going down there, or if Arya was going to be successfully. He never prayed, but this time he did pray so that everything would be all right. He was so close to getting Sansa back...

He heard movement at the other end of the hallway then. He turned around to look at whoever was there, but the Faceless Man had already shot the Golden Company mercenary that had just appeared. The man in the golden mask hadn't died without throwing a little souvenir at them before, though...

"Grenade!" Sandor shouted, and he ran for cover. The Faceless Man wasn't so fast, and the grenade exploded.

* * *

 

After entering the elevator, breaking into the bunker was an easy task. It was a very outdated bunker, and the Faceless Men had no problem entering it. Had it been more modern then they might have found a problem, and Arya thanked all the gods that wasn't the case. All four of them irrupted all at once into the place where Joffrey and Sansa had gone to hide immediately after the attack started. Arya knew that Rickon was also in there, and probably some of the bodyguards. She have orders to kill the bodyguards, no matter who the were, and to hold Joffrey until she could deal with him. She didn't want to just shoot and kill him, no. She wanted to look at him in the eye and take pleasure in the fact that that little shot was finally going to pay for all that he had done to her family. She wanted to see the fear and the hatred in his eyes. She wanted to have the satisfaction of letting him know that his life was over; she wanted him to suffer like her father and her mother and her sister-in-law and her friend had suffered before they were murdered by him.

But she would have to leave Joffrey for the end. Her priority at that moment were her siblings, specially Sansa. Arya had been shocked when she had found out that her sister was pregnant, and she had been scared that the child was Joffrey's. She was relieved when she found out that the father was Sandor, and Joffrey was lucky that that was the case. She would have skinned him alive and cut off his dick and shoved it in his own face if the child had been his son.

As soon as they all entered the bunker, Arya took a look around to see how bad the situation was, and she was shocked. The first thing that he noticed was Boros struggling with Joffrey, trying to take a gun away from him. Sansa was on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor, crying in both emotional and physical pain, and on her lap was lying Rickon, with blood dying his clothes red and a bullet wound on his chest. He was very still, and his eyes were closed...

" _Rickon!_ " Arya gasped, horrified. She had expected many things when she broke into that bunker, but she didn't expect that, not in a million years. She had come to save her siblings... Instead she had arrived in time to watch her brother die.

Sansa noticed the arrival of the Faceless Men then, and she looked up from Rickon's body and locked her eyes on Arya's. Sansa seemed confused at first. How could she not? She hadn't seen her sister in years, and now there she was, breaking into the presidential bunker right when it seemed that all was lost. Sansa wasn't really sure if all that was real, or if her exhausted and traumatized mind was making up a twisted fantasy to help her escape from her imminent doom.

"Arya...?"

Arya didn't reply. She tore her gaze away from her sister and from the fallen body of her brother and she turned her attention to Joffrey. The man had stopped struggling with his bodyguard for the control of the gun and was now staring at them almost as confused as Sansa and even more horrified. Boros took the gun away from him for good then and he aimed it at Arya. Jaqen raised his own weapon and shot Boros one single time. The bullet buried itself perfectly between Boros's eyes, and the man fell backwards to the floor, dead. One of the Faceless Men was about to shoot Joffrey too, but Arya stopped him.

"No!" she shouted. "He's mine."

She approached Joffrey. She found out in that moment that she couldn't wait another second. She had been waiting for that moment for years. Joffrey's eyes were already full of fear and horror. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to know that his life was over. Well, she could finally take the life that she had paid for, the life that was owed to her. When he saw that his sister-in-law, whom he hadn't seen since before he had mercilessly killed her father, was pointing a gun at him with the full intention of killing him, Joffrey cowardly backed away towards the wall like a scared little animal that was being hunted. Like a deer stalked by dogs. Arya scoffed. She was thinking of what to say to him before pulling the trigger when suddenly they all heard an explosion coming from above them, from the mansion. Arya was distracted from her task, and she turned her attention to the elevator. Jaqen approached it and looked up to see what was going on.

"I hear shots," he told them then. "They are fighting. We should get out of here before they drop a grenade or block the way or one of them comes down here."

Arya cursed under her breath. Couldn't she just kill Joffrey in peace?! But Jaqen was right, they did have to get out of there. "Fine, get them out," she said, meaning Sansa and Joffrey.

"What? No, I-I can't leave him!" Sansa exclaimed, alarmed and holding Rickon tightly in her arms. She wasn't willing to let him go, even when Jaqen tried to help her up. " _No! I won't leave him!"_

"We have to, Sansa, we will come back for him when it's safer!" Arya tried to calm her down, but it didn't work.

"No! I won't leave him! He's my brother, I can't leave him!" Jaqen was getting ready to force Sansa to stand up and drag her out of there if need be, when the unimaginable happened. Rickon's eyes opened widely, he gasped, and his chest rose when his lungs were filled with air. He was alive. Sansa cried and held him as if he was made of glass and about to break. She couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing, and neither could Arya. Rickon was alive! "Rickon! Oh my God, Rickon!"

"Move him carefully!" Jaqen asked for help from one of the other Faceless Men. Both of them took Rickon from Sansa's arms and carried him with care away from the bunker. The other Faceless Man carried Sansa, and Arya approached Joffrey.

"I'll deal with you later," she muttered right before hitting him in the back of the head with her gun and knocking him out.

Leaving the bunker was no easy task, but they managed. Between Arya, Jaqen, and the two other men they succeeded in freeing Sansa, Rickon, and the unconscious Joffrey. They weren't met by a very we,coming scene, though. As soon as the stepped out into the hallway they saw that there had indeed been an explosion there, and they found the Faceless a man that they had left there dead on the floor, and a few feet away Sandor was wrestling on the floor with a man from the Golden Company. Not far from them there was the dead body of another man from the enemy side. Sandor was bigger than the man that he was wrestling, and stronger, but the man in the golden mask wasn't weak. Jaqen shot and killed the man and Sandor kicked him away from him and then stood up on his feet. He looked at Sansa then, who was being held by one of the men.

Sandor and Sansa stared at each other for a couple of long second, each taking in the sight of the other, not believing that they were finally together again. Arya could almost see sparks flying between both of them, and she realized that in that moment the entire world could go to hell and neither the former bodyguard nor her sister would give a damn. They were the only thing that existed for each other at that moment.

"Sandor!" Sansa exclaimed, letting go of the man that had helped her and stepping towards Sandor. Sandor closed the space between them and held her in his arms and hugged him tightly, being careful of her enormous round belly.

"I'm here, little bird, I'm here..." he assured her. In that moment Sansa sobbed in pain, and Sandor looked at her alarmed, thinking that she was hurt.

"The baby," she explained. "He's coming."

"Let's get you out of here..." Sandor picked Sansa up in his arms and started carrying her away. The two other Faceless Men took Rickon and carefully carried him while they followed Sandor. Arya and Jaqen didn't move, though, and Sandor noticed. He stopped walking and looked at them, and then he noticed the unconscious Joffrey that they had left on the floor. His expression darkened. "Are you going to kill him now?"

"We will wake him up first," Arya told him, and Sandor nodded with approval.

"Good," he resumed walking again, but he stopped once more. "Thank you."

Arya was surprised, but she smiled a little bit. "Thank you, Hound. Take care of my sister."

"Arya, come with us," Her sister begged her. "This place is dangerous, leave!"

"I'll be right behind you," Arya promised, and then everyone left. There were shots that could be heard from other places in the mansion, which meant that there were still men from the Golden Company left there. Arya felt uneasy, for she was worried that something would happen to her siblings on the way out. It was a miracle that Rickon was alive, and she didn't want that miracle to go to waste. She couldn't lose anyone else from her family...

...and it was all because of Joffrey. He had started that. That psychotic, inhuman sociopath deserved to burn in hell for what he had done.

"Are you going to wake him up?" Jaqen asked her, and Arya nodded softly while she glared at Joffrey's unconscious form with hatred. "You should do it quickly, they are all over the place. Just like a plague of insects..."

"Aegon wanted to make a grand entrance, he wasn't going to come with few men," Arya scoffed. Her expression softened then, and she looked at Jaqen. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this. For everything. For helping me."

Jaqen was surprised. He wasn't used to Arya talking like that, and Arya wasn't used to being emotional. But she really felt the need to let him know that she was infinitely thankful to him. Yes, maybe he had helped in keeping her locked up for a year, but it was for her own good, and nothing would ever make her forget the moths spent in India. She couldn't have had a better friend by her side during those hard days, and the same could be said from the time when he gave her the support that she needed after her father was killed. Arya felt that she needed to let him know how she felt about that.

Jaqen smiled. It was odd to see him smile, specially in such a place. The background sound was of shots, there were bodies and blood everywhere... It wasn't precisely the place where someone could smile in a friendly way. But Jaqen did it.

"You are welcome, lovely girl."

Arya returned her attention to Joffrey, who was still unconscious. She was thinking of what she could say to him when he woke up, what finals words she could deliver to him. Maybe _'the Starks send their regards'_ would be the most appropriate thing to say in that situation. Arya was still thinking about him when a bullet grazed her arm. She gasped, more in surprise than pain, and she turned around at the same time that Jaqen did. They weren't expecting to find Gregor Clegane standing right behind them. Arya froze when she saw him. She was tiny, not even in her wildest dreams could she fight against someone of that size! He would break her in tiny little pieces!

Jaqen raised his gun and tried to shoot Clegane, but he was met with the horror of being out of bullets. Gregor Clegane grinned; the expression on his face was one that made Arya feel chills run down her spine. He really did look like a monster taken out from a horror tale. Gregor was already aiming his gun at her again, ready to shoot, but Jaqen let out an enraged yell and threw himself at the giant man. Arya gasped when she saw her friend crashing against Clegane, with enough force to throw him back a few steps but not enough to throw him off his feet and unto the floor. Gregor grabbed Jaqen and tried pushing him away, but Jaqen didn't let go of him. The Faceless Man had been marterfully trained in all sorts of physical combat and was graceful and fast as a shadow, but fighting against Gregor Clegane wasn't an easy deed. Besides, Jaqen was a man that preferred to take advantage on the element of surprise and use weapons and poisons to defeat his enemies ad kill the victims that he had been assigned. Few times had Arya actually seen him physically fighting against someone else without weapons. If Jaqen had a weapon Gregor wouldn't stand a chance. Actually, the moment that Jaqen pulled out a knife from one of his pockets Arya seriously thought that Gregor was done for. Jaqen furiously slashed and stabbed Gregor Clegane with a speed almost impossible to achieve by any other person, and the giant man ended up covered in deep gashes and wound that bled and stained his clothes and the floor underneath with blood. The angry red color was bright as rubies in the darkness that had taken over the Red Keep mansion after night fell outside and the attack happened. But Clegane, instead of being weakened by Jaqen's attack, seemed to be infuriated and become more aggressive.

There was something majestic and hypnotic about watching those two men fight. Arya felt like she was watching two beings in the wild: the hunter and the beast. Jaqen moved too swiftly for Gregor's big and clumsy form to get a proper hold on him, and he kept hurting Clegane over and over again, slowly bringing him down. Gregor, on the ther hand, was nature's manifestation in human form of pure brute strength. He was savage. He sought to destroy in a chaotic way, there was nothing organized about his movements, there was just blood thirst and the deep desire to kill. Arya was too petrified to actually react and go help her friend. She tried at one point, though, but Jaqen shot her one quick glance warning her not to come close, and she obeyed him. After that brief warning Jaqen continued fighting Gregor, trying to bring him down. Gregor was severely wounded by then, and any other person would have collapsed, but not him. Arya was starting to wonder if he was even human.

"Jaqen, watch out!" she screamed at her friend. Jaqen barely dodged Gregor's fist before it hit his stomach. She would have shot Gregor, but she had dropped her gun n the way up from the bunker so that she was able to carry the unconscious Joffrey to the first floor of the mansion. Feeling scared, she looked around for a weapon, any weapon. She found a gun not far from where the dead Faceless Man had fallen after the grenade explosion. Arya ran towards it, dead set on blowing Gregor's brains all over the place. She took one quick look at the two fighting men. Jaqen had grabbed and twisted Gregor's hand, breaking his wrist. The bone cracked and Grendor yelled in pain. Jaqen then tried to stab the bodyguard in the chest, but with his healthy hand the man stopped him. Arya looked away from them. She had almost reached the gun...

A new shout was heard then, and a flying object crossed the hallway and sank itself in the wall in front if Arya. She gasped, startled, and recognized the knife that Jaqen had been holding. She turned around again immediately in time to see Gregor putting his arm around Jaqen's neck in a chokehold. Jaqen was very strong, but Gregor was stronger. Arya stared in shock, unable to fully comprehend what was really happening at that moment, and in that instant Jaqen's eyes met with hers. She was able to see his apology in the way that he looked at her, and before neither could say or do anything Gregor's healthy hand had grabbed Jaqen's head and quickly and violently twisted it. A terrible snapping noise filled the hallway and reverberated in Arya's ears as Jaqen's neck broke, and his lifeless body fell to the ground once Clegane let go it him.

" ** _NO!_** " Arya screamed.

Gregor didn't even see her coming. Arya wasn't even conscious of her actions as she took Jaqen's knife from the wall and ran towards Gregor. He was tired from the fight that had just ended and didn't react in time. Arya was way too short next to him, so she stabbed him in the back and, just as if she was on a mountainside, she took impulse with the help of the knife and climbed the man's back until she was sitting on his shoulders. Gregor screamed when he felt the agonizing pain of the knife stabbing him between the ribs and the flesh tearing when Arya used the knife to climb. He tried to shake her off, but Arya was already seating on his shoulders with her legs in a chokehold around his neck. Gregor couldn't breathe; now Arya had all the advantage.

"This is for my friend, you son of a bitch!" she screamed at him, feeling hot salty tears streaming down her face as she started to repeatedly stab the man in the neck with Jaqen's knife. Gregor screamed and screamed some more with each stab that he received, and after a couple of them Arya put the knife on his neck and sliced his throat. He dropped to the ground with Arya still on his shoulders, but she was ready and she rolled away from him and got back up on her feet. She was breathing hard, and she felt that at any moment her heart would tear itself off her chest.

She watched Gregor's dead body for what felt like eternity. His mauled neck didn't cease to spill blood, creating a red pond that was getting bigger and bigger until it touched Arya's shoes. She didn't even notice. After she tore her gaze from the monster that she had just brutally killed she set her eyes on Jaqen, her friend. Looking at him caused her a great deal of pain, but she did it anyways. Hesitantly, she walked over to where he was and she knelt down on the floor by his side. She picked him up carefully and out him over her lap. Jaqen had his eyes closed, and for a moment it looked as if he was sleeping. Arya ran her hands through his white and red hair, and a single tear full of pain and sorrow fell from her eye. She didn't say anything, she just leaned in closer to her friend and touched his forehead with hers, and she stayed like that while she held him tightly, just like her sister had held Rickon earlier in the bunker when he had been shot. The difference was that Jaqen wasn't coming back like her brother had.

"Valar Morghulis..." Arya murmured softly, saying the words that Jaqen had taught her many years ago, when she needed them the most. 'All men must die'. _Indeed they must_ , Arya thought bitterly.

She heard a noise behind her then, a low groan and slow movement. She separated from Jaqen's body and laid him down on the floor with care, and then she turned her head around to see what was happening. Joffrey had finally woken up and he had gotten up on his feet. He looked stunned, and he didn't eve notice Gregor's body or Arya kneeling down on the floor near him. He just started walking slowly, tottering. From the looks of it he might have a concussion.

Arya didn't react immediately. She took her time, and she watched Joffrey as he tried to get away from there and escape towards the exit of the mansion. When Joffrey was a few feet away she moved away from Jaqen, stood up, picked up the fun she had dropped before, and aimed it at Joffrey. Joffrey might have heard something, because in that moment he stopped walking and he slowly turned around. His eyes went wide with horror when he saw that Arya was still there, and that she was going to kill him.

"Please..." she heard Joffrey begging then. "Please don't..."

She felt a wave of rage running through her. "Please? Please?! Did you listen to my sister when she begged you for anything?! Did you spare my family when she asked you to please don't harm them?!"

"I will let you go," he said. The desperation and the terror in his voice made Arya feel poisonous satisfaction deep inside of her. There was nothing like seeing your worst enemy begging for his life. But it wasn't going to being her loved ones back. Revenge was, after all, bittersweet. "I will let all go. I swear I won't look for you, I won't hunt you... You can leave your life in peace, just like you all wanted!"

"You have no power anymore, Joffrey," Arya spat. "My family is already free from you. But I won't let you go," her whole body was shaking, but her hand was steady and her aim was perfect. She wouldn't miss that shot. "You have a debt to pay. And what is it that you Lannisters say? 'A Lannister always pays his debts.'"

Joffrey knew that he was going to die; Arya could see it in his eyes. He was terrified. Arya already had her finger on the trigger, and she was about to pull it and rid the world of Joffrey Baratheon forever... But, yet again, she was stopped by someone else.

She heard someone shouting at the end of the hallway and she looked to see what was going on. A Faceless Man had just appeared there, and it looked like he had come running from the second floor of the mansion. He was there to warn Arya of something.

"They have a bomb!" he shouted to her in Braavosi, and then he ran away to find cover. For a couple of seconds Arya didn't react, but then she did.

" _Oh, shit!"_ she cursed. Joffrey looked at her confused, because he didn't understand what was going on. Arya lowered her gun and looked down at the floor. The harnesses that they had used earlier were still there, and she kicked one to throw it down the elevator shaft. The rope was still hooked to an anchor point, so the harness was left hanging down the elevator shaft. She was going to shoot Joffrey then, but she heard shouting and running upstairs. She didn't have time.

After letting out a frustrated yell and dropping her gun she glared at Joffrey with hate one last time, and then she turned around and ran towards the open elevator doors. She jumped inside, feeling her belly twist as gravity worked on her and she started falling down the elevator shaft. She grabbed the rope of the harness with her hand then, stopping her fall. She was wearing gloves, so the rope didn't burn her hand, but she did grunt in pain when she hit the wall of the elevator shaft with her body. She didn't let go of the rope, though.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Joffrey was confused by what had just happened. He was in shock, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that something bad was going on, so he tried to run.

* * *

 

The people had shouted with joy when they saw the Starks being carried outside the mansion, and they all waited for them to arrive at the mansion's gates. They were making slow progress, because carrying a pregnant woman in labor and a man that had been shit in the chest and was bleeding out wasn't an easy task.

Gendry was among the crowd, and as soon as he saw all of them he went back inside the mansion's ground and ran to join them and help. Sandor was carrying Sansa with no problem, so Gendry tried to help the Faceless Men that were carrying Rickon.

"Thank God you are alive!" he exclaimed when he saw Sansa, though he did become pale when he saw Rickon. "What happened?!"

"Joffrey happened," Sandor explained.

"Where is Arya?" the young man asked, worried about his girlfriend. "I thought she would come with you!"

"She stayed behind with Jaqen and Joffrey. She'll be out in a minute."

Gendry understood, and he proceeded to try to help the Faceless Men. They hadn't given even four steps forward when all of a sudden all hell broke loose. In less that a second, the entire mansion exploded and blew up in flames and tiny pieces that flew up to the skies and lit them up like fireworks. Due to the force of the explosion, almost everyone fell to the ground. Sandor turned around and fell on his back, luckily preventing Sansa from hitting her belly. She cried in pain from the harsh movement, and then she cried when she saw the destruction that was in front of her. Her cry was muted by the screams of the crowd outside the gates.

What little was left standing of the mansion was on fire. Angry, vicious fire that devoured everything on it's path. Sandor stared at it in terror, feeling as afraid of fire as always. But this time it was worse. Arya had been inside the mansion still...

"Arya!" they heard Gendry scream. The man had fallen to the ground just like the rest of them, but he had jumped on his feet immediately and he was running towards the burning ruins of the mansion. " _Arya! ARYA!"_

Sandor left Sansa alone for just a second to run after Gendry, since it seemed that no one else was going to stop him from doing something stupid. He caught up with Gendry and grabbed him, stopping him from approaching the mansion any further, and he pulled him away from it. Gendry struggled and fought back, but Sandor was stronger.

" ** _ARYA! No, please!"_**

"She's gone!" Sandor knew that those weren't the words that Gendry wanted to hear, but he needed to understand. They even hurt him to say them. Sansa didn't deserve to lose someone else, and certainly not like that. "She's gone, Gendry. We have to get out of here."

"No!" Gendry screamed, but Sandor didn't listen to him. He started pulling Gendry away from the mansion and, in that moment, something happened that left the all in shock.

Someone came running out of the mansion. They figured that it was a someone because of the inhuman screams that were coming out of him, because he was completely covered from head to toe in flames. Fire, fire everywhere. The person twisted and screamed and ran in every direction, unable to see where he was going. The fire melted his flesh and made him feel an unbearable agony.

Sandor almost felt pity for him. Almost.

The flames would have killed the man, had he not arrived at the fountain in front of the mansion- which had been left untouched- tripped, and fallen into the water. The flames were out out, and smoke and steam rose from the water. A couple of people ran to help the man out of the fountain. Merely touching him provoked him agonizing pain and made him scream, but they managed to pull him out.

The man was more monster than human. His clothes had melted in with his twisted flesh. The hair was gone, and he was horribly scarred beyond recognition. Such was the horror of looking at him, that in comparison Sandor's wounds were nothing but a mere sunburn after a long day in the beach. The people that were tending to the man and calling an ambulance didn't seen to recognize him, or maybe they thought that leaving him there to his own luck would turn them into worse monsters than him. But Sandor had spent enough years with him to know him even if there wasn't anything left of him to recognize him. He was one lucky bastard... Two different groups of the best mercenaries and assassins in the world had come after him that night, and everybody had died either trying to get to him or in the explosion that had just destroyed everything... And there he was.

Against all odds, Joffrey had survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Doesn't know if she should hide in her own bunker or what.*
> 
> Jaqen was one of the people whose death replaced someone else's... I cried, ok? I made myself cry, I'm stupid. But by the ending of the chapter I was laughing my ass off, guess why. *Evil laugh.*


	58. After All This Time I'm Coming Home To You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOOOOOOOd, I SWEAR I didn't realize it had been almost a year. You know when you keep thinking 'I'll do it next weekend' and you don't realize that like that you let a freaking lot of time pass? Well, that's what happened to me.   
> Also, I had quite a few distractions. I started studying Anthropology as well as the other two majors that I was already studying, and making it all in under four years with good grades is a bit hard, and the professors assign a TON of homework each day. Not to mention that, while that was my distraction for the academic year, during the summer I could barely write because, even though I was catching up (I managed to update my Gendrya fanfic then) someone in my family became very sick all of a sudden. Cancer is a son of a bitch, isn't he? But he got beaten up like Joffrey did in the last chapter, ha!  
> Also, love came knocking on my door and I answered, so that took the rest of my time away. Oops. Blame the guy, not me!   
> Also, there was my own book to focus on while I had some free time. It's in Spanish, but I'm trying to have it translated. I'm not doing it, though, I've had enough with writing it in one language already.  
> ANYWAYS, have another chapter here! I readily hope you are all still here with me, and that you leave me nice comments and don't hate me. Love y'all!!!
> 
> The title for this chapter was taken from the song 'Gunslinger' by my always beloved Avenged Sevenfold.

The city was in complete chaos. Police, ambulance, and firefighter sirens combined were the deafening noises that muted the panicked screams of the people that had witnessed the explosion that followed the battle inside the presidential mansion. The scorching flames still burned furiously, creating a wave of heat that hit them all with the force of a tsunami and made them all feel like they were in the depths of hell. Everything felt like they were truly in the depths of hell, from the dead bodies on the ground to the screaming of the people that had been cheering mere seconds before, to the colossal cloud of black smoke that rose to the sky…

The police managed to make the people move away to let the ambulances pass. There were several of them, and the paramedics wasted no time transporting the injured inside. The ambulances were filled with the bodies of the men that had been shot down; it didn’t matter if they were Faceless Men or Aegon’s men or part of Joffrey’s security team, the paramedics were trying to save all the lives they could. Joffrey’s screaming self was carried in a stretcher to one of the ambulances; his burns were so terrible that the slightest touch, the slightest movement, provoked him an agony worse than the most painful of tortures. His screams could be heard above all the noise around him, but no one felt any pity towards him.

Rickon was carefully taken into one of the ambulances. He was still alive, but very weak, and so the paramedics took all the care in the world to avoid any fatal harm. Sandor had to help the paramedics practically force Sansa into the same ambulance as her brother. She was struggling, horrified by the sight before her. She screamed her sister’s name, as if that would somehow make Arya emerge from the flames. Finally she gave in when a particularly powerful contraction hit her. She realized that she had to go to the hospital, and quickly. The paramedics carried her to the ambulance, and Sandor stayed behind to help Gendry, who was in shock. Sandor thought that it would be a struggle to make Gendry join them in the ambulance, but Gendry didn’t even protest, he just followed the man with an empty gaze. Sandor had never seen him -or anyone else for that matter- looking so lost, so broken. He took one last glance at the destroyed and burning mansion where they had last seen Arya before they got inside the ambulance and the doors closed behind them.

The injured were taken to all the closest hospitals in the area with available surgeons to operate immediately. Those with lesser injuries were taken to the furthest away hospitals, while those that needed immediate medical attention were taken to the closest hospital. Sansa, Rickon and Joffrey ended up in the same hospital. Sandor jumped out of the ambulance to leave room for the paramedics to take out the stretchers where they had put Sansa and Rickon. Rickon went first, as the bullet wound on his chest was extremely dangerous and needed surgery immediately. He had lost a lot of blood and his face was extremely pale, awfully resembling a dead body. He had fallen unconscious while on the way to the hospital, although the paramedics had done everything they could to keep him awake. The doctors immediately took him into the hospital, and Sandor stayed behind and waited while the paramedics carefully took Sansa out of the ambulance.

The ambulance that had parked right next to them was the one that was carrying Joffrey. His agonizing screams could be heard even from inside the vehicle. Sandor saw the paramedics opening the doors and unloading the stretcher, and the screams became even stronger. From afar at the grounds of the mansion Sandor had been able to see how horribly burned his former boss was; the burns reminded him of when he himself had been burned many years ago, he felt sick to his stomach when the stench of burned flesh reached his nose. From that distance he could see for real how much worse those burns really were. There was nothing left of Joffrey, just… twisted, blackened flesh. Sandor was sure that he could even see the bone in some parts, like in Joffrey’s hands and jaw. Sandor didn’t know what he felt. He didn’t know if he regretted that Joffrey hadn’t died, or if he was delighted by the terrible suffering that Joffrey was now a victim of, a suffering that would make anyone wish to be dead.

Maybe it was a good thing that Joffrey wasn’t dead. He deserved to suffer after all the evil he had done. He deserved to feel what everyone else around him had suffered because of him.

Joffrey disappeared behind the doors of the hospital and Sansa’s stretcher was finally unloaded from the ambulance. Doctors and nurses rushed towards them. Sandor was extremely surprised to see that his own sister, Michelle, was there.

“Sandor!” she exclaimed, relieved to see he was fine. He wasn’t with her when he left to the Red Keep mansion, but as soon as she had heard the news of what was going on she knew her brother would have gone there as quickly as possible. “Are you all right?!”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine…” he mumbled, still too shocked from all the recent events. “Sansa… The baby…” he tried to explain, but Michelle already knew. She and the other nurses and doctors carried the stretcher with Sansa on it inside the hospital and towards the maternity ward. Sandor followed them closely.

“Sandor,” he heard Sansa calling him, and he quickened his pace to be right next to her. She had one hand on her belly and the other hand reaching out towards him, and Sandor took it in his own. It wasn’t long till they reached the maternity ward, but one of the nurses tried to stop him from coming into the room with them.

“I’m sorry, sir, only family are allowed inside,” she told him, but he glared angrily at her.

“I’m the father!” he informed the woman. She was stunned and looked at him with disbelief. The woman knew quite well that Sansa was the First Lady and that Sandor had been Joffrey’s bodyguard for many years, everyone in the country knew that. But, even though most of the shit that had happened in the Red Keep mansion had been revealed to the world, it hadn’t yet be unveiled that the child Sansa was expecting and about to deliver was the bodyguard’s child. “ _Let me in!”_

“I’m sorry, but-” the nurse insisted, having recovered from her initial shock. However, before she could finish the sentence Michelle spoke from inside the room.

“He’s telling the truth, Irene, he is the father. Let him in, it won’t be long now.”

Although still hesitant, the nurse Irene stepped aside and allowed Sandor to come into the room. Before he could rush to Sansa’s side, who was having the epidural injected before it was too late, he was handed blue hospital clothes that he had to put on before he could go stand next to the mother of his child. _The mother of his child._ How strange those words still sounded in his head, yet how much joy they brought him! He quickly put on those ridiculous clothes and rushed to Sansa’s side and took her hand again like he had done in the hallway. He knelt on the floor so that he could be at the same level as Sansa and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“I’m here, Sansa, everything is going to be fine…” he whispered in her ear, and he could see her smiling, even though her face was twisted in pain. She felt better now, though, thanks to the epidural.

Sandor had never been a very religious man, but ever since Sansa came to his life like a hurricane that shook everything on its path he had found himself very often praying for many reasons. He prayed often, begging for their hell to come to an end. He had prayed, thanking God for the miracle that was to love Sansa and have her love him. Whenever he had been too scared, too desperate, too helpless, he had found himself praying for Sansa’s safety, especially in those months that he had been forced to stay away from her. He had prayed to see her, to hold her in his arms again and to meet his child, who he was sure would be just as beautiful as her. He wasn’t very sure if God was up there listening to his prayers, but he was with Sansa again, she was safe in his arms and he would not only get to meet his child, but he was also being granted the gift of being present at his or her birth. It was truly a miracle. They had to suffer a lot to get to where they were, but they had endured, they had survived, and everything was just as it should be. He couldn’t be more grateful.

“It’s time. Sansa?” Michelle was the one who spoke, talking to Sansa with the same tone that a sister would. Sansa was delivering her nephew or niece, after all. “Sansa, I need to take a very deep breath and start pushing, okay? Take a deep breath, that’s it, very well… Now push!”

Sansa held Sandor’s hand so tightly that it almost hurt while she pushed. He didn’t complain, all he cared about was that everything went well. While Sansa pushed he couldn’t help but wonder what his child would be. A boy? A girl? What would the baby look like? He didn’t care at all, all he wanted was for the baby to be healthy and happy.

“One more push, Sansa, one more!”

“You are doing great, little bird,” Sandor told Sansa, whose face was red from the terrible effort and covered in sweat.

He had no idea how much time passed; he didn’t notice the clock ticking away the seconds and the minutes. All that Sandor cared to notice was how Sansa pushed while holding his hand, how she screamed, and how just moments later a loud cry filled the room, announcing the coming into the world of a new life.

“It’s a girl!” Michelle exclaimed with joy.

Sandor tore his gaze from Sansa from the first time since he had knelt to her side to immediately look at the baby, but the nurses had already wrapped her in a smooth white blanket and taken her away to clean her up before showing her to her parents. The baby girl was still crying quite loudly. _She’s got a good pair of lungs,_ was the first thing Sandor thought. He didn’t look away from the table where they had taken his baby. After everything that had happened he was paranoid that anything could go wrong at any moment, and he was ready to jump in a second if he saw any signs that they were taking his baby away. But all his fears proved to be just paranoia; he had nothing to worry about. Michelle was the one that took the baby girl when she was ready and brought her to her parents with a huge smile on her face. She too was excited to meet her niece.

“Here’s your baby, Sansa,” Sansa was waiting impatiently to have her daughter in her arms. She, just like Sandor, had been unable to take her eyes off the nurses while they attended to her baby and she was anxious to finally have her in her arms. Michelle carefully placed the baby, wrapped in a new and soft pink blanket, in them, and Sansa held the baby like she was the most precious treasure in the entire world.

“My baby,” she sobbed. It was a happy and relieved sob. Finally Sansa had a reason to be extremely happy, despite everything that had happened. “Look, Sandor! We have a daughter…”

 _This is too good to be true,_ Sandor thought, but he immediately pushed that thought away. Of course it was true. Both he and Sansa deserved some happiness after everything they had to endure for years. All their pain had been rewarded with pure joy in the form of their healthy, beautiful daughter.

She was really beautiful. Sandor had never imagined he would have children, but in the extremely limited occasions in which he had wondered about that very unlikely possibility he had always thought that any child of his would be just as ugly as the father. But no, the baby was beautiful, undoubtedly thanks to her mother. Most newborns looked like a potato, but the baby was a very pretty potato. She had round, pink cheeks and little pouty lips, and Sandor found himself amazed by her tiny hands and feet. He had never seen anything more precious and delicate in his whole life, and for the first time ever since he met Sansa he realized that there was a person that he would love just as much as he loved her, or maybe even more. Was that even possible? He couldn’t wait to find out.

The baby girl had a small tuft of dark brown hair on the top of her hair. She had stopped crying and was now peacefully resting in her mother’s arms. Sansa was just as mesmerized by her daughter as Sandor was. She kept sobbing softly, feeling happy because her baby was safe. Her daughter had made her forget all her sorrows for at least a few minutes, and even though that moment wouldn’t last forever and reality would hit her again soon, for the time being Sansa allowed herself to not feel any pain at all, not even a little bit.

“She’s perfect…” she whispered.

“Just like her mother,” Sandor said before kissing her lovingly on the forehead.

He looked at the baby again, and placed one of his fingers right next to the baby’s hand. The tip of his finger was bigger than the baby’s whole hand! The baby’s tiny little fingers closed around Sandor’s finger, and just then did he realize that he was shedding a few tears. He was crying, damn it! But he felt no shame, for those were the tears better spent of his whole life.

His daughter opened her eyes then. They had the greying color that most newborn babies had. It was impossible to tell if they would change with age and become some other color, or if she had inherited her father’s eyes. Whatever the case, Sandor’s breath caught in his chest when he saw his baby’s eyes. Everyone knew that babies were blind at first, but he could swear –and damn everyone who dared deny it!- that his daughter was staring at him directly.

In that moment he promised himself and he promised the entire universe that, even though he had failed to protect Sansa from evil like he wished he could have done and he hadn’t been able to stop that same evil from tearing them apart, that no harm would ever come to his daughter. No matter what, he promised he would never be separated from his daughter.

He was with his family now, and that was where he would stay.

* * *

Sansa had been moved to a private room to recover from giving birth. Sandor left her side only once she fell asleep, but never before. Sansa, although still happy about the birth of their daughter, was a little depressed at the moment. It was normal, given what had happened. She had managed to finally escape, yes, but at what cost? Her brother was injured, and her sister was dead. They had all seen how Arya hadn’t come out of the mansion, and the building had blown up and burned as if it was made of paper. Nothing had been left or it or of the people that had been inside at the moment of the explosion. Joffrey had barely escaped with his life, but he would have been better off dead. Sansa was grieving her sister, just as she was still grieving all her loved ones who had been murdered over the past few murders. She needed to grieve in order to heal. She needed to feel all the pain before she was able to put it in the past, where it belonged.

While she slept, exhausted after all that had happened in just one day, Sandor left her room and walked down the corridors. There were security guards on the door to keep her safe, just in case. The city was in complete chaos, and the authorities had assigned security to all the survivors of the attack. The hospital looked more like a police station or military headquarters than an actual hospital, but at least the place was quieter now than it had been before. The hospital was still chaotic, with more patients arriving as time passed by, the emergency rooms were completely full, the doctors and nurses were overwhelmed, and on top of that more and more journalists and reporters kept arriving every minute to try to sneak in and get some information on the President, the First Lady, and the other survivors. Luckily security had managed to keep them away for the moment.

Sandor was walking down the hospital corridors with his newborn daughter in his arms. She still didn’t have a name, and she looked even tinier in his arms than in Sansa’s. She looked the size of a mouse, almost, and Sandor felt like she was made of glass and he held her with all the care in the world. He had been nervous when the baby had been handed over to him, of course but he had taken her with expertise. He had held many babies during his life and he wasn’t afraid to drop her. He would never let that happen. The baby was comfortably sleeping in his arms. There was something Sandor had to do while Sansa slept, and he hadn’t wanted to leave the baby there unattended while he left the room. He was sure that nothing would happen, but he just didn’t want to let his baby go or stop seeing her for even a second.

“Where can I find Rickon Stark?” he asked a nurse in the hospital lobby. The last news he had had about Rickon were that he was being operated on in the ER, and that his state was very serious. He hadn’t heard anything since then, and he was terrified that he would have to deliver his little bird terrible news.

The nurse looked at her computer screen and typed something before answering. “It seems he’s already in the recovery room.”

* * *

 

Sandor couldn’t be happier to hear that. He immediately went in search for the room Rickon was in, and when he arrived he found people standing outside the closed door. One was Gendry, but Sandor was surprised to find Tyrion Lannister there as well.

“I came with Myrcella,” the dwarf explained. He looked devastated; his brother had been killed, after all. Sandor had never liked Tyrion much, or Jaime for that matter, but they weren’t his enemies, his fight wasn’t with them. Not only did the man look devastated over the death of his dear older brother, but he also looked quite shaken from the whole experience he had lived. He could have been killed, and his hands were shaking, though he tried to control it.

“Is she inside?”

“Yes. They allow only one person at a time. We came as soon as we heard, she was hysterical and she wouldn’t be quiet until she saw him, so I brought her here to see him.”

“Did Cersei come too?”

“No, they didn’t let her leave the police station,” Sandor was glad to hear that. He didn’t want Cersei Lannister anywhere near Sansa, his daughter or himself. “Tommen is with her. She is hysterical too, because of Jaime…” pain crossed Tyrion’s face when he said his brothers name, “and Joffrey.”

“Your father is dead,” Sandor told him. He didn’t care to say it in a less blunt way. Not that Tyrion cared about his father, anyways.

“I know.”

“So Rickon is alright, then? He’s safe? He was shot, he was unconscious…” he had been afraid that the lad would die, or that he would enter a coma.

“Yes, he is perfectly safe. He’s a surprisingly tough boy, he will make a quick recovery.”

Sandor was glad, now he would be able to deliver his little bird some very much-needed good news. He looked down at his sleeping daughter, and Tyrion seemed to notice her for the first time and stood a bit on the tips of his toes to see her, and a faint smile crossed his lips.

“Is that Sansa’s baby?” Sandor nodded, smiling as well while he looked down at his beautiful Littlest Bird. That smile was something extremely odd that Tyrion had rarely seen, a smile on the bodyguard’s face. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A girl. We haven’t decided what to name her yet.”

Gendry reacted for the first time since Sandor had arrived. He had been leaning against the wall all that time, with his gaze lost in some invisible point in space, his expression void of all emotion. There wasn’t even grief in his eyes; it was as if he had turned to stone and he couldn’t feel anything, not even pain anymore. Arya had taken it all away with her after the explosion that had taken her as well. But he had just seen the baby, and it was the first thing that had managed to pull him out of his world of misery that night. He moved away from the wall and took a few hesitant steps towards Sandor while he looked at the baby, the niece of the woman he loved, and a little bit of life seemed to return to his eyes. The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, but it soon vanished.

“Is Sansa ok?” when he spoke, even his voice was broken. Sandor nodded.

“Aye, she’s sleeping. She was exhausted. It’s been a… tough night,” he felt awkward talking to Gendry. The young boy had lost everything, while Sandor had gotten Sansa back and now he had a beautiful daughter to double his happiness. He wouldn’t blame Gendry for hating and envying him. But, though there _was_ envy in Gendry’s eyes, there wasn’t hate. Not even a bit of it.

“You two have to get out of the country. It’s not going to be safe in Westeros for a while, it’s going to be chaos, even with Joffrey gone from power. Politicians will tear each other apart, and there’s no way of knowing if there are more people like Aegon out there. You have to get out, at least until things calm down.”

Gendry was right, Sansa couldn’t stay in Westeros, and wherever she went Sandor and the baby would follow. Sandor didn’t care where they had to go. They could hide in a fucking island in the middle of fucking nowhere and he would be happy, so long as they were together. So long as they were family.

“I can arrange for safe passage,” Tyrion intervened. “My nephew might have managed to drag the family name through the mud, but at least I have some power left of my own. There are strings I can pull, I might make things faster than they would usually be in these circumstances.”

“Thank you,” Sandor said. He would have to discuss that with Sansa later, though, he didn’t want to make any decisions without her, but that could wait a few more hours until she was awake and fully rested. “Speaking of your nephew… Where is that fucking bastard?”

“He’s in the ICU. I haven’t seen him.”

Sandor said goodbye to Tyrion and Gendry, and decided he would go back to check on Rickon later, while Gendry et him know that he would go to see Sansa soon. Sandor left that corridor then, but he didn’t go back to Sansa’s room. Instead he took the turn to the ICU.

Technically he wasn’t allowed there. Nobody could visit Joffrey –not that anyone would want to, except his mother and she wasn’t there- but because of all the chaos in the hospital that night no one noticed when Sandor found the room in the ICU where Joffrey was staying and sneaked inside.

Again, he was unsure of what he felt. He had wished for Joffrey’s death for a long time now, but what he saw when he went into the ICU room was a hundred times worse that death could ever be. If he hadn’t known that the disfigured shape of twisted, blackened, blistered flesh was Joffrey he would never have known it was him. Even though he knew it was still hard to believe it was him! That wasn’t a person laying on that bed, it was… a monster. Sandor had been alienated, judged, distrusted, and looked at with disgust his whole life because of the scars of his face, but there were a mere flea bite next to Joffrey’s burns.

The screaming had stopped thanks to the painkillers, and he had been all bandaged up and he was so medicated that he was almost completely numb, but he still could feel pain. So much pain was impossible to take away. He was awake, and Sandor was glad for it. He just wanted to visit that room one time, and never go back. He wanted to turn the page and start over, and that was why he was there, to say goodbye to the biggest nightmare of his life. He hadn’t suffered nearly a tenth part of what Sansa had suffered at the hands of Joffrey; had Sandor never fallen in love with Sansa, he never would have suffered at all. His life would have continued undisturbed, the same as always. But he was glad he had suffered. He was glad he had fallen in love. He was glad that his life finally had a meaning.

Joffrey glared at him. His eyes and his mouth were the only visible thing in his face, the rest had all been bandaged up. He was in for weeks and even months of agonizing healing. He was breathing artificially with the help of tubes and beeping machines; his lungs were damaged, and part of his nose had been burned off. His eyes were inhuman and would give nightmares to even the bravest of men. They were completely bloodshot, and he was almost completely bling in one of them. Sandor could tell that Joffrey to scream and yell at him, but he couldn’t.

“You have lost,” Sandor said, savoring in the tip of his tongue the pleasure that those words provoked him. “After all this time, you have finally lost. You have no power anymore, Sansa is free, all the Starks are free… and look at you. People might have looked at me with disgust in the past, but there was pity in them too… There will be no pity for you. Wherever you go whoever sees you will have nothing by cries of horror to mutter in your presence, and when they realize what you are the horror will be replaced with joy, because everyone hates you and they will know that you deserve this. Your outside is just as rotten as your inside now.”

He smiled. He knew he probably shouldn’t. He knew that the good guys were supposed to forgive and move on and they did not revel in their enemy’s pain, because that was unworthy, dishonorable, and below them. But it wasn’t below Sandor to do it. Fuck honor, and fuck being a good guy. He wasn’t a good guy, never pretended to be one and never wanted to. He was ready to laugh at the top of his lungs at Joffrey’s fate and he wasn’t going to be guilty at all about it. His pleasure just augmented when the hatred in Joffrey’s eyes intensified. Joffrey wanted to sit up in the bed, he probably wanted to jump on Sandor and claw his face off, but he was strapped to the bed and he couldn’t move. Also, even the slightest of movements provoked him the worst of agonies, despite all the painkillers. He screamed and cried and looked pitiful, like a savage, wrecked wild animal. Sandor smiled and allowed his former boss to see his daughter then.

“You see her? She is the ultimate proof that we have won, and you have lost everything. We will be happy forever, while you… Well, I hope you have fun rotting in hell for the rest of your worthless existence.”

He had nothing else to say, and he was glad because in that moment the door was opened and a nurse walked in and gave him a stern look.

“Sir, you can’t be here!”

“Don’t worry, I was already leaving.”

Joffrey tried to shout, but he was barely understandable. Sandor left and left him screaming because of his physical pain and also because of his wounded pride. The door closed behind the ex-bodyguard, and in that hospital room he left his past behind.

* * *

 

Sandor was back in the room with Sansa, who had just woken up not too long ago. Sandor had been holding their daughter in his arms for hours without ever getting tired of it nor of constantly looking at her. The baby still didn’t have a name, and Sandor had taken to calling her Littlest Bird while he cradled her in his arms and watched both her and her mother sleep. Now he had his Little Bird, and his Littlest Bird, and there couldn’t be a happier man in the whole world.

The baby had woken up about at the same time as Sansa, and she had immediately started bawling, asking for food. It was only then that Sandor let her go so that Sansa could hold her and feed her. She was nursing the baby in that moment, and Sandor had just told her that her brother was completely out of danger and in the recovery room already. Those great news had made Sansa glow with happiness.

“Where will we go after this?” she asked then while she nursed the baby. Sandor had also told her that Gendry had advised them to leave the country for the time being and Tyrion was going to handle everything so that it would all be ready as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care, really. I think I will be able to call any peaceful place home,” she sighed. The baby stopped feeding her, and Sansa rearranged her hospital robes to cover herself and patted her baby in the back to make her burp. When she did, it made them both smile. “She needs a name.”

“I remember you saying that Katherine and Celine were your options for a girl,” Sandor said, remembering that day months ago. “Do you still like those, or do you have any new ideas? Don’t ask me for help, little bird, I fucking suck at naming things, much less my own daughter. I would leave her with Littlest Bird and call it a day.”

“We can’t name her that!” Sansa protested, though she giggled softly. “No, I still like those names, but…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, and her smile faded while she looked at her daughter. It didn’t take a genius to read her mind, and Sandor knew immediately what had darkened her mood all of a sudden. She was thinking of her dead sister, who had died saving her and Rickon, and who she wanted to honor. He didn’t have any objections to it.

“I like that name,” he said then, not reffering to ‘Littlest Bird’, but to the one Sansa was thinking of and not mentioning.

“If you two are thinking of naming her Arya in my honor there’s really no need, I think there’s more than enough with one of us in the family.”

Both Sansa and Sandor immediately looked at the door of the hospital room, reacting to the voice in less than a second. They hadn’t heard the door opening nor anyone stepping into the room, and they had been too focused on what they were talking about to notice the presence of the person that had just spoken. They both looked at hers expecting her to be a ghost, an apparition, a product of their imagination or of their traumatized minds. They looked at her expecting her to disappear, to fade into non-existence, where she belonged… But no, she stayed, just as real as they were and as the hospital that surrounded them. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was leaning against the wall in the cockiest manner possible. Her clothes were torn and burned and so was she, and wounded, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all.

“Arya!” Sansa cried in disbelief. Sandor picked up the baby in his arms again, leaving Sansa’s completely free to hug her sister when Arya almost jumped on her.

There were tears and sobs and laughs and cried of happiness. No one asked how Arya was alive, it didn’t matter. All that matter was that she was alive and well, beaten up and burned and bleeding and filthy and tired as she was. She had fulfilled her promise to her sister, and she had come out of it alive when it was impossible that she could have done that. While both sisters cried and laughed and hugged Sandor stepped out of the room. Arya had sneaked into the hospital without anyone seeing her at all, so when Sandor found Gendry the young man was still looking as miserable if not more than before. Sandor told him to follow him, and when they got to the room Gendry almost collapsed when he saw Arya in front of him. Only then did Arya let go of her sister and ran to Gendry and jumped to his arms. She kissed him so hard that she knocked him down on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly that it seemed he was never letting her go again.

“Never do that to me again!” he shouted when their kiss stopped, but then he was the one to pull her into another fierce kiss. “Never!”

“Did you seriously believe I would allow myself to die? You stupid bull!” Arya laughed, and kissed him one more time.

Sandor sat on the border of the hospital bed next to Sansa, and both of them looked at the happy couple with the brightest smiles in the planet on their faces. Sansa was crying once again, and this time there was no sadness at all in her tears, there was just pure bliss.

“Celine,” she said then between happy sobs. Sandor looked at their daughter, then looked at her, smiled, and kissed her.

“I love it,” he said, giving his approval, and he kissed her again. Oh, how he had missed the taste of her lips. How he had missed all of her! He had thought he would go absolutely insane in her absence. But now there was nothing pulling them apart. They were alive, Arya was alive, Rickon was alive… They could reunite with Bran and Ned and go somewhere far, far away, and leave all their troubles behind for good.

“We can go home now,” Sansa whispered.

Yes, they could, wherever ‘home’ would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where should that new 'home' be?


	59. ANNOUNCEMENT

I AM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's been so freaking long. You guys can't even begin to imagine how much stuff has happened tat kept me from continuing this story and others I still have not completed. If you are still with me, following this story, then know that I am forever grateful because you all mean so much to me, your support, your words of encouragement that kept me motivated to keep writing not only this, but everything in general... I even developed friendships with some of you, which I am so happy about! So I would love to have all that back, if you are still here with me. If you are, you have my love *throws confetti in the air*.

If you are still following the huge mess that is this story, I am sorry if you got a notification and thought that this would be an update. I apologize, it isn't, but worry not! Because you know what? There will be one next week! I'm already working on it, but I'm a Senior at university and I am triple majoring and writing three thesis at the same time is driving me crazy, so I can't have any chapter that is worth anyone's attention ready right now. But you will see an actual notification for an actual chapter soon!

I love you all and I hope that you will continue this story with me because, at least for me, it's been a wonderful journey that I intend to continue until the epilogue. Thank you!!!!


	60. A New Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!!! That took longer than a week... Blame one of my senior thesis (two down, one to go!!!!) Anyways, here's the new chapter!!
> 
> IMPORTANT!!!!!! I got a few comments saying that no one got the notification for chapter 58 (this is technically 59 even though it says 60). So if the last thing you read before this chapter was the explosion at the Red Keep, go read chapter 58 first!!!! I have no idea why that happened ://
> 
> I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has given me love and support even after all this time! I love you all, guys :D I hope you like this chapter.

Sansa needed to stay a few more days in the hospital after giving birth, which was why they were still in Westeros even after making up their minds to leave that Godforsaken country until it was a hundred percent safe for them to live them again, which was unlikely to happen in some time… maybe a very long time. Sandor wasn’t in a hurry though. His top priority was her health and that of their newborn baby girl, Celine. There had thankfully been no complications during the delivery and both of them were completely fine, but after all the stress and trauma that Sansa had gone through the night of the birth it seemed better to not push things. Besides, she refused to leave without her brother. Rickon had miraculously avoided death; the bullet had missed his heart by barely an inch and it was a wonder how it hadn’t done any more damage. He was still recovering, a little at a time, but he was stronger everyday. Myrcella Baratheon was with him most of the time, completely refusing to leave his side. Cersei Lannister had been in the hospital for an entire day, worrying to death about her son Joffrey’s health. Sandor had done his best to keep the woman as far away from Sansa and the other Starks as possible, but there hadn’t been any more need for his efforts after that day, since Cersei was arrested on account of covering up her son’s crimes. Other people were also being arrested, but others weren’t because they were dead or they had fled the city and most probably the country as well.

Sandor wasn’t worrying about any of that at the moment, though he did want Joffrey to make a quick recovery so that he could be taken from the hospital and put straight behind bars to rot for the rest of his life as soon as possible. Sandor could rest easy anyways; in his state, Joffrey wasn’t able to do anything at all, he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. And so Sandor and Sansa spent the following days worrying only about where would they go to leave behind that hell of a country once and for all. Gendry and Arya were staying with them at the hospital; Arya needed some care and Gendry was never again going to leave her side, terrified that if he did so he would lose the precious second chance he had been granted with the love of his life.

That day Sansa was sleeping. She had some anxiety, which was normal after not only the traumatic events of the night of the attack but also of her life for the past few years, and the medication she was being given made her sleepy quite often. Sandor didn’t mind, he thought she needed all the rest she could get. While Sansa slept he took care of little Celine. He wouldn’t let the nurses take her away not even for a moment, he wanted her all to himself. He had never really enjoyed babies, though he was rather used to taking care of them, but Celine was special. Celine was his baby, his and Sansa’s, and to him she was the most precious treasure in the world.

He held her in his arms that afternoon. It was rainy outside, and it was quiet in the hospital, which was a first really. They were in Sansa’s room, and Sandor was sitting on a chair next to her bed while she slept. He couldn’t take his eyes away from Celine, who was also sleeping… or so it seemed until suddenly she slowly opened her tiny eyes. Her gaze was unfocused, but Sandor liked to pretend she was staring at him.

“Hey you little sleepyhead,” he whispered softly. He had always had a rough, strong voice, but around his daughter he surprised himself being even gentler had he had ever been with Sansa. Seven hells, he was even holding her like she was made of the most delicate glass in the world, terrified to death that he could crush her with his enormous hands! “You sleep even more than your mother, and that’s saying something.”

The baby made a funny noise. Her tiny nose was a little wrinkled, and it made Sandor smile. He was amazed. How could something so small, so delicate and defenseless make him so goddamn happy? How could he love someone he had met barely days ago so fucking much? Even before she was born Sandor knew he would die for that little girl, he needn’t even question it.

“What? You don’t like seeing something so ugly right after you wake, is that it?” he joked, making a face and feeling the scars of the side of his face pulling a bit, like they always did when he spoke or smiled or made faces like that. “You’d much rather see your mother, am I right? Well, too bad, your mommy’s asleep right now. And anyways, you should see the face the guy who would have been your stepfather has, now that’s a frightening sight!”

His really bad jest was interrupted by someone knocking on the other side of the door. Sandor turned his head to look at the door, thinking it was probably a nurse or Sansa’s doctor.

“Come in.”

He was surprised to see he was mistaking, and the person who came then into the hospital room wasn’t a doctor or a nurse but Tyrion Lannister. Sandor had seen the little man quite often in the past couple days, but he hadn’t been expecting that visit. Still, he greeted the man politely with a slight inclination of his head. Tyrion did the same, and silently asked for permission to approach, which Sandor gave.

“How are they?” Tyrion asked, referring to both Sansa and Celine.

“They are fine, thanks,” Sandor said. He stood up, walked towards the hideous thing that pretended to look like a cradle that they had been given at the hospital, and put Celine in there before turning to speak to the dwarf. “What are you doing here?” He knew the man was still in the hospital because Myrcella insisted in visiting Rickon, and Tyrion didn’t want to leave his beloved niece alone, afraid that danger might still be lurking behind every corner, but Sandor had expected the courtesy visits to Sansa to be over already.

“Well, I was speaking to the ambassadors of a few friendly nations earlier,” Tyrion said. “You are not the only one who wants to leave this mess of a country as soon as possible, Clegane, I also value my neck, you see… And I spoke to them on your behalf, and Sansa’s of course. Several of them were quick to offer their nations as a safe haven for us, if we were to choose to take those offers.”

Sandor raised his eyebrows, surprised but also grateful to Tyrion for that. He hadn’t gotten around to take care of planning where they would leave or even how or when even, and neither had Gendry or Arya yet, so he was glad Tyrion seemed to have found several options and solutions for them in that urgent matter.

“Which countries?” he wondered.

“Well, there were the United States, and Canada and several countries in South America… Half of Europe is willing to take us in as well. I have a strong preference for moving to Spain. That preference had nothing to do with the parties and wine, of course,” the man said with a funny smile on his face. Sandor couldn’t help but remember when he and Sansa went to that Spanish restaurant in Highgarden during her concert tour, and how much they had enjoyed that day. The memory brought a smile to his face. “Though of course I’m taking Tommen and Myrcella wherever I go, and I have a strong feeling my niece will completely refuse to go anywhere else other than where Rickon is going, and I’m guessing Sansa will want her brother with her, won’t she?”

“So you’re saying we should all move to Spain.”

“No, I’m saying I’d like to know where you two intend to go before I communicate my decision to the ambassadors who have kindly offered us places to stay where we won’t be shot at from every angle, something I can’t very well say about this city,” Tyrion corrected the former bodyguard. “Wherever that place is, though, please make sure it’s somewhere with good wine. I’d loathe to give up a magnificent Riojan for a piece of shit.”

“We could go to Ireland,” a soft voice said behind Sandor, and he inmediatly turned around. There Sansa was, sitting on the hospital bed, finally awake. She had listened to their conversation, and voiced her opinion. Sandor sat on the bed next to her and gave her a quick kiss, after which Sansa smiled and put her hand gently against his cheek. “Bran and Ned are there, and so is my uncle. Or we could go to England and let them join us there, or perhaps we could travel later.”

Sandor could tell she was excited at the fact of having so many possibilities, so many options from which to choose freely whatever she wanted. That was the first time in years, ever since before her father’s death when she was already engaged to the monster that had turned her life into hell, that she could do whatever she wanted to do with her life. She was finally free, and nothing was pulling her back. Sandor could see her wide, sincere smile, and the sparkle in her eyes, and hear the small giggle that formed in her mouth, and he felt happy. He would follow her to the end of the world, not caring if she wanted to go to England, or China, or fucking Samoa for that matter. Anywhere she went he would follow without question, for she was his happiness, and he wanted her to enjoy her newfound freedom wherever she chose to pursue it.

“England doesn’t sound like a terrible choice,” Tyrion said then, shrugging a little bit, and Sansa turned her attention to him.

“You can go to Spain if you want. If Myrcella goes with you and Rickon wants to be with her you’ll just have to invite us over there sometime,” she said, surprising the dwarf.

“Don’t you want him to go with you?”

“I want him to be happy,” Sansa stated. “And I know he’s happy with her. He could have lost everything the other night. He could have died. I think he’s earned his freedom just as much as both of us have,” she added, looking at Sandor in the eyes there. Beneath her joy there was still the heavy shadow of all the pain and the suffering she had endured like a true warrior for such a long time, but there was also strength, and Sandor felt proud. “He can go wherever he wants to go. I know he can visit me whenever he wants, and so can I. It will be alright,” she smiled.

“I’ll make sure to talk to him about it, then,” Tyrion said, and bowed his head to say goodbye as he walked to the door to them alone again. Before exiting the room, though, he stopped and looked behind, smiling kindly at Sansa and Sandor. “I wish you both all the best,” he said before leaving.

“Are you ready?” Sandor asked Sansa.

“To take my life back?” she whispered, and her face lit up ten times brighter than the face of a child blowing off the candles of a birthday cake. “I’ve been waiting for this for years, I sure am!”

We can be together forever now, Sandor thought, almost unable to believe how lucky he was. He would never understand how he, out of all the people in the world, could have had such luck. To find a woman like Sansa, to fall in love with her and have her love him in return, to share the gift of a daughter with her… and now they were blessed with their freedom. They had had to fight so hard for so long to get where they were. It had been so difficult, the most difficult thing that Sandor had ever done, and he still wasn’t sure how he had managed to survive it, but somehow he had, and he knew that it had all been worth it. If he had to go throw it all again, through all the pain and the suffering if it meant he still got to be with Sansa and be blessed with the gift of the promise of a life with her, he would do it. But seven hells, if he could rewind all the way to the past and save Sansa from all the pain and the loss, even if he had to give up his own life to do so, he would do it in a heartbeat.

It was pointless, thinking about the past and what could have been. They had just the future to look ahead to, and they should think about what could now be, and about all the wonders to come. Sandor took his Little bird’s face between his rough, calloused hands whose touch the woman loved, though how could that be was still a mystery to the former bodyguard, and he kissed her passionately in her soft, full lips. He had missed kissing her so much during the months they were forced to be apart. He had missed her presence, her smiles, her ceaseless talking and her singing, her warmth, her mouth. He had missed letting her know how much he loved her and letting her show him how much she loved him. He had missed pinning her down to the bed, or to the wall, or to whatever fucking piece of furniture they had available near them, or perhaps just against the rough cold floor, and making her his until she screamed his bloody name, or perhaps whisper it in the sweetest way to not get caught. They needn’t hide from anyone now, not in that sense anyway. The whole fucking world could know they were together and they couldn’t care less. They were happy, in fact, to be finally rid of the burden of the lie they had carried on for years.

When their kiss finally ended Sandor brushed a rogue strand of red hair away from Sansa’s hair. Neither of them spoke for a while, simply looking into each other’s eyes, until finally it was the man who broke the silence.

“So,” he sighed, “England, huh? Are you gonna make me sip tea all the bloody time, and be all refined with impeccable manners, and eat fish-and-chips and listen to whatever-their-fucking-name was? The Ladybugs? The Grasshoppers? The Scorpions?”

“Umm… I’m pretty sure The Scorpions are German,” Sansa, who was the savvy one of the two when it came to music, giggled, amused. “Do you mean The Beatles?”

“That’s it, The Beatles! Fucking stupid name,” Sandor grunted, and Sansa giggled even harder.

“Don’t insult The Beatles, not in my presence! And no, I’m not going to make you do any of those things… Though it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you watched your language a little bit from now on. You are a father now, you need to set a good example.”

Sandor merely arched an eyebrow. “Just accept it, our daughter is going to curse like a sailor when she grows up.”

“Sandor!” Sansa protested, mockingly hitting him. She then pretended to give him a stern look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yes I fucking would.”

She hit him again, making him laugh. That was their last day at the hospital. Sandor made sure everything was ready for them to travel. He left Sansa and Celine under Arya’s care for a short couple of hours while he left to go shopping for a few baby clothes for Sansa and for the Littlest Bird, who had lost all their things in the explosion of the Red Keep mansion. The baby needed diapers urgently, and a few more items, and the only clothes Sansa had for herself were those she had worn to the hospital, which were ruined, bloodstained, torn and covered in ash. They moved in to the apartment Sandor had been sharing with his sister since he was fired just for a little while, until they thought it was safe for the bay for make such a long and tiresome trip, and until Rickon was released from the hospital and recovered. It took a couple of weeks for that, but then they didn’t waste any more time. Rickon had decided to go with his family in the end, so that they could all be reunited once and for all, since he was ecstatic that Arya was back with them, and she had decided to go to England as well. Myrcella wasn’t saddened by Rickon’s decision though; they had decided that after some months, when the Starks had spent quality time together as a real family for the first time in years, Rickon would join her in Spain and they would live together wherever they wanted. It was a good plan. Sandor also said his goodbyes to his sister. He had come to really love Michelle, and he was sure he would really miss her, but her place was in King’s Landing and his was with the Little Bird far away from Westeros for the time being. They were sure, though, that soon enough they would be reunited again.

Finally the day to leave arrived. They had security accompanying them to the airport, where they boarded private jets. Sansa was very hesitant at first to board the small airplane. Sandor knew the reason behind her hesitation. He knew Sansa was terrified, and that flashbacks of the tragedy of months ago was haunting her memory at that moment. He could see it in her eyes, the anxiety of having so narrowly survived her murder at the hands of Joffrey alongside her brother, mother, and sister-in-law, and the panic of thinking it might happen again. She was so used to being afraid of everything the whole time that being free and safe was almost unbelievable, she didn’t trust that safety. What if she wasn’t free after all, what if she could never escape Joffrey? What if that plane crashed like the one carrying her family had, finally killing her once and for all?

“It’s ok, Little bird,” Sandor whispered in her ear, comforting her. “It’s ok, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Somehow that comforted her and gave her strength. Sansa took a deep breath and bravely stepped into the jet, leaving behind Westeros and saying goodbye forever to a life of misery.

The flight was very long, and when they finally landed in London they were exhausted. Tyrion, Tommen and Myrcella were supposed to take another flight to Madrid, but they had decided to stay a couple of days in London to rest. There were safe houses arranged for all of them, and Rickon left with the Lannister and Baratheons to spend that couple of days with Myrcella, while Gendry and Arya left to some apartment in London and Sandor, Sansa and Celine went to another. They weren’t going to stay in that apartment forever, they would find a nice place to live soon, after they settled in their new city and got used to their new life. They had contacted Bran: he, Ned and Brynden Tully would leave Dublin and join them in London during the following days. Sandor could tell that Sansa was excited, but she was also exhausted, not only from the trip but from everything.

The apartment was as plain as it could be. The walls weren’t painted, they were just white, and there was no decoration at all and barely any furniture. A small table with a pair of chairs, a couch, a bed in the only bedroom there was and a drawer for clothes. Not that they would have worried much hadn’t there been a drawer, they barely even had clothes. All their current possessions were in a single bag. They were starting literally from scratch.

“I know it’s not much,” Sandor said, putting down the bad on the floor while Sansa looked around. The expression on her face was quite blank, but it was more to exhaustion rather than lack of satisfaction.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, “I’ve had enough grand luxuries for a lifetime, believe me…”

Though Sandor did believe her and knew that those luxuries had cost Sansa more than a mere material fortune, he did know that she liked fancy things. It was how she was, he didn’t want to change that, Sansa shouldn’t have to give up her preferred lifestyle. They would get back up on their feet soon enough. She seemed to think the same way as Sandor.

“One step at a time,” she said, a soft smile appearing on her lips as she finished looking around to focus on Sandor. There wasn’t much around them to look at anyways. He returned the smile.

“One step at a time,” he agreed. He noticed the dark circles under Sansa’s eyes then, and the exhaustion that was all over her face. It had been a very long flight indeed, and the jet lag wasn’t helping at all. He felt tired too, but he could stay awake a little longer. Sansa, though, looked like she needed to sleep three days in a row immediately. He was about to tell her to go to bed and sleep for as much as she wanted, but the baby suddenly started crying in Sansa’s arms.

“I have to feed her…” Sansa murmured, struggling to stay awake.

“Here, give her to me,” Sandor approached her and extended his arms, waiting for Sansa to hand over their daughter to him. “I’ll take care of it. You need to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.”

Sansa handed the crying baby over to Sandor, who gladly took her in his own enormous hands, in which she fit perfectly. He gave her a little kiss on the forehead, careful not to scratch her delicate skin with his coarse beard, and then went to the kitchen. They had no food for themselves, had Sansa and Sandor wanted to eat they would have to go out or call for take home, but they did have everything they needed for the baby. She was their priority now, after all. Sandor held the baby with one arm and took her bag with his free hand before placing it on the small kitchen counter. They had some bottled milk that was cold in that moment, since they had kept it in a cooler bag to keep it from being spoiled during the trip, so Sandor took a pot (the apartment was equipped with kitchen items, so that was something they didn’t have to worry about at least when they went shopping), filled it with water and warmed it on the stovetop. When it was warm enough, not burning, he put the bottle in the water and waited just a few minutes, to stop it from being freezing, while he cradled his daughter in his arms. She was still crying, and he tried to calm her down.

“Ssshh, ssshh…  _A bear there was, a bear, a bear…_  Oh you like it, huh?” he chuckled after he sang (or tried to sing, that art wasn’t his specialty, but it was close enough) and Celine’s cries ceased for a few moments. “Bloody hell. Oh, fine…  _All black and brown and covered in hair_ ,” the babe shut up again, mildly distracted by the funny sounds coming out of her father’s mouth, and Sandor rocked her in his arms while he sang as softly as he was able to, almost humming the melody. “ _Oh come they said, come to the fair, the fair? Said he. But I’m a bear! All black and brown and covered in hair_.” He took the bottle out of the water, put a few drops on his own skin to test that it was only warm, simply room temperature, before giving it to the baby to suck. Celine wasn’t crying anymore. “ _And down the road from here to there, from here to there three boys, a goat and a dancing bear! They danced and spun their way to the fair…_  There, that wasn’t so terrible, was it?” He watched his daughter sucking on the tiny bottle and chuckled. “Who am I kidding, you’re probably fucking deaf right now.”

“You are really good at this,” Sansa’s soft voice came from behind him, and he slowly spun around to face her. She had the brightest smile on her beautiful face.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I’m waiting for you,” she said, and approached him. She then looked at their daughter in Sandor’s arms, and her smile widened. “You do have a talent. You’re much better at this than I am.”

He couldn’t really refute her, there was some truth to that statement. Sansa was so afraid she was going to do something wrong that it took her a very long time to do everything, like dressing the baby, for example. She was convinced she was somehow going to accidentally break Celine’s tiny bones or hurt her, while Sandor had her dressed in a heartbeat. Sandor also had diaper-changing duty down to a science, though that was the first time ever that he didn’t find it absolutely disgusting because it was his own daughter, and not someone else’s brat that had been left in his charge.

“Practice,” he simply said. “You’ll be much better than me soon, you’ll see.”

“No, I can already tell she will be a daddy’s girl,” Sansa giggled. “She already is.”

Celine finished eating and they both put her to sleep after changing her into her pajamas. They were the next to go to sleep, completely exhausted after going to sleep. They crawled into the bed in the small apartment where they could be alone, just the two of them, finally. Sandor put his arm around Sansa’s body and hugged her against him, enjoying the feeling of her warmth and her softness. That was not the first night they spent together since the night of the attack, but after all they had gone through throughout the years just a few nights weren’t nearly enough to shed the feelings of anxiety, of desperation, of pain and loneliness and despair that was tormented them since they fell in love. They had thought they would never get to be together like this, to be free to do whatever they wanted, to share the same bed without being unable to breathe or sleep, being constantly in panic of getting caught and punished. That was all over, but they would never forget. Little by little, though, they would make up for all that awful time. For now, at least, they could share their happiness at being able to enjoy each other’s company as much as they wanted, of living together, and together they would resolve all their other issues one step at a time.

It wouldn’t be easy, that was obvious. Sansa was tormented by nightmares. Sandor was always on guard, being unable to get rid of that feeling of having a target on his back and the need to constantly protect Sansa. He search for any kind of danger everywhere, even though he was sure there was none. Sansa called her family the whole time, most times for no reason at all, just to make sure they were okay and that nothing bad had suddenly happened to them. She was terrified she would suddenly lose them the same way she had lost everyone else, even though Joffrey couldn‘t give orders anymore. She was also still constantly watching what she said, as if she still had things to hide, as if if she let anything slip by accident she would mess everything up and she would wake up from that dream and into the real world again, into the nightmare her life had been before. Sandor had witnessed her almost having a panic attack when they were on the corridor outside the apartment one day, and the nice lady who was their neighbor and was absolutely oblivious as to whom they were and had not idea what was happening in the world recently said hello to them and asked them if they were husband and wife. Sansa’s brain was so hardwired to hide their romantic relationship from everyone so no one would know she was cheating on Joffrey and avoid his wrath that she had started to hyperventilate. Sandor had given a cheap excuse to the lady, saying Sansa had been in an accident and was experiencing drama, and had quickly taken her into the apartment to calm her down.

It was hard, but they could overcome it. Finally one day they ventured outside. Until then Gendry and Arya had offered to do all their grocery shopping for them, but Sansa had soon grown tired of the situation and wanted to go out, to walk the city streets and get to know London, the place that was now her home. They put Celine in a little stroller and walked with her through London. It wasn’t sunny, which they weren’t expecting anyways, but Sansa adored that weather. Sandor admired her face as it lit up when she watched the grey skies above them, and saw her smile when they were met a chill breeze. He knew it reminded her of Winterfell, the city she so loved, but to which she couldn’t yet go back. He swore to himself they would go, as soon as everything was safe. He would take her back to her real home, even if so much was missing there. He would give her back as much of her life as he could.

They were in front of the Big Ben, admiring the place like any tourist would. They had dressed quite normally, with nothing that called too much attention to them, though little could they do to hide Sansa’s beauty, or Sandor’s impressive height and build and his facial scars. Anyone who watched the daily news and paid attention to them might recognize them under the hoods of their jackets. The embassy of Westeros in London had offered to arrange for some bodyguards to accompany them; Sansa was still the First Lady of Westeros, after all, though not for long. They didn’t have bodyguards following them around, though, since Sansa had completely refused to. She had fed up with being followed around everywhere constantly throughout the years, she had had enough of that. She still didn’t feel completely safe, though. Sandor noticed when her smiled weakened, and he saw her looking at the people around them with distrust. There was a large group of tourists not far from where they were. Sandor saw the cameras, saw their flashes, and immediately knew how Sansa would react. He grabbed her gently by the shoulders and pulled her close to him before she started having a panic attack.

“It’s ok! It’s ok,” he assured her, gently stroking her hair. “It’s ok, Little Bird. No one is spying on us, I promise. It’s ok if they see us, no one can harm us now. You are free to do whatever the fuck you want, do you hear me?”

“He can’t see us,” he heard her whisper. He didn’t know if it was a question, or if Sansa was trying to convince herself of the fact.

“He can’t see us,” he nodded, assuring it to her. “He’s never going to hurt you again. Never. He’s not coming back.”

“I don’t have to hide,” Sansa whispered. It sounded almost like a cry.

“We’re free.”

“We are free.”

He kissed her then and there, in public, in front of all that people, in front of tourist who had cameras that might take a few stills of them, in front of people passing by, in front of a giggly group of kids who still found adults kissing to be funny, in front of passing cars in the street and in front of London, in front of the world, and he couldn’t have been happier. No kiss before had ever tasted that sweet. He knew he would never get tired of the taste of freedom.

When he pulled away from her Sansa was smiling softly again. They stared into each other’s eyes in silence until it was broken by her cellphone ringing. She took the call, and walked just a few steps away. Sandor watched Celine in her stroller while Sansa spoke in privacy to whoever it was on the phone. When she came back she seemed to be glowing, which surprised Sandor.

“Who was it?”

“My lawyer!” she answered. It was her family’s lawyer, Samwell Tarly, who had come into her service after the attack on the Red Keep mansion to take care of all her legal affairs back in Westeros during her absence.

“What did he want?”

“It was about my marriage, I… I’m getting a divorce. And an annulment!” she almost screamed and jumped in joy. An elderly couple walking right next to them in that moment overheard her and looked in their way in disapproval. Who fucking cared. “I’m not going to be married anymore, Sandor! He’s going to jail forever, and I’m not going to be his wife any longer, ever again!”

She jumped him his arms and threw hers around his neck, clinging on to him as if for dear life, not ever wanting to let him go. Sandor wrapped his arms around her and laugher along with her. He even spun around, still carrying like they did in those stupid romantic comedies that Sansa loved so much, and their laughs became harder until their chests almost hurt, but it didn’t matter, all ache was sweet when it was caused by ecstasy.

“I want to be your wife now,” Sansa suddenly whispered in his ear, making him freeze. “Yours and no one else’s.”

He put her down again on her feet and stared at her. He knew she was telling the truth. He knew Sansa desired that. Bloody hell, so did he! He wanted to put a ring around her finger and call her his wife, he wanted to be her husband, he wanted it more than he ever would have thought… He had no time to have stupid doubts like he would have in the past, about her not really loving him, about how it was impossible that anyone could ever love him, when there was so much better anywhere else. He had thought in the past that he was a monster, but he knew better now. His scars might look like those a villain would have in a horror story, but the real monsters hid beneath perfect, impolite facades that trapped everyone, seducing them like moths were by flames that mercilessly killed them in agony. Sandor had no doubts that Sansa loved him with all her heart, just as he loved her, and that was more than enough.

“You will be,” he said, and he could feel a nice shiver running down he spine as he said those words. Merely weeks ago, saying those words was impossible. Whomever said that the impossible couldn’t be achieved? “But I want to do things right. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I know you always dreamed of your perfect wedding, right up there in your fucking balls-freezing North, near your home with your people and your family and your friends, beneath a heart tree… I know you wanted a white wedding in winter, on a snowy day.”

“I don’t need that anymore…”

“I know you don’t, but I want to give it to you. You’ve had to give up so much for so long, let me do this one thing for you. Allow yourself to have this one whim. Let this one childhood dream come true.”

“But I don’t want to wait… I don’t want you to wait,” she said, though he could see perfectly well that she didn’t dislike the idea.

“Little bird… I’m right here. I’m not going everywhere, I’m going to stay with you always,” he promised. “We’ll go back to Westeros soon enough, you’ll see, once things calm down… And then you will have everything the way you always wanted.”

He could see the smile on her face, the happy tears in her eyes, and just knowing how happy she was made everything completely worth it.

“Thank you, Sandor…”

They continued walking around London with their daughter, finally feeling a completely unadulterated happiness. Yes, things were hard sometimes, but the good times made everything so worth it. And soon, little by little, the hard times weren’t as hard anymore, the happier times were happier, and soon everything that was bad went away. They fought hard, and they won.

* * *

 

**Seven Years Later.**

They never knew how long they would have to stay away from Westeros. They knew for sure that it would be at least for months, maybe a year or two. But the country was till plagued by political turmoil some time after that, and every time they thought the time would finally come, something else made them stay in London. Soon they stopped worrying or even paying attention to the news from Westeros, they simply didn’t care. They were perfectly happy where they were; they needed nothing more.

They moved out from the small apartment and bought a nice house in a nice neighborhood in London. Celine grew up and started school. Sansa went back to her musical career, and found all her fans loyally waiting for her return, supporting her and giving her waves of love. They were approached by journalists and they weren’t afraid to talk anymore and tell their story so everyone would know the truth. Soon their story because known worldwide, and they were recognized as the brave lovers who had fought against the devil himself to earn their freedom and their happiness. Sansa collaborated with as many organizations as she could to help abused women, fighting so other women wouldn’t have to go through hell next to a man like she did. She did a lot of good, making sure those women would find their own freedom and happiness too, and like that she paid back the universe for the second chance she had been given.

They were happy. They were a family. They wouldn’t change a thing.

That morning of late January Sandor was in bed next to Sansa, as always. The alarm didn’t wake him up that day, as it was Sunday, and he could sleep as much as he pleased. He was doing just that when suddenly something heavy dropped on it and woke with a start.

“Ah!” he jumped. The room was immediately filled by giggles, and he saw the most beautiful little girl with rosy cheeks, shinny brown curls and soft and bright bluish grey (or perhaps greyish blue?) eyes jumping up and down on the bed excitedly.

“Daddy, daddy, there’s snow!” she happily shouted in a sing-song voice. “It’s snowing! Daddy, let’s go!”

Celine dropped on her knees on top of Sansa then, waking her up like she had done with her father.

“Wake up, mummy, it’s snowing!” she insisted. Celine was already dressed to go outside to the snow, wearing a purple winter coat over clothes that she had picked out herself perfectly. She didn’t mismatch colors; she was just like her mother in that sense, quite the fashionista. “Come on, let’s go and play!”

“Ok, honey, we’ll be ready in a second.”

“YAY!” Celine jumped off the bed and stormed out of the room while singing at the top of her lungs. “DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOWMAAAAAAAAAN”

Sandor dropped his head back on the pillow and groaned.

“Not that fucking song again.”

“It’s a nice song,” Sansa retorted.

“It’s a fucking nightmare. If I ever catch the bloody bugger who made that movie I’ll twist his neck like a fucking chicken I swear to all the gods.”

From somewhere around the house, Celine’s singing voice was heard again.

“LET IT GOOOO, LET IT GO!”

“The horror!” Sandor groaned, but Sansa laughed and pulled back his sheets, forcing him to get up.

Soon the entire family was outside in the street, playing under the falling snow. Sandor would have been perfectly content just watching Celine run around or building snowmen with her mother, that was until the little fiend decided to make a snowball and throw it right at his face with extreme accuracy. Sansa laughed so hard Sandor genuinely thought she would pee her pants, and he had his revenge by throwing a snowball at her head, making Celine laugh that time. Sansa squealed, partially out of indignation and partially because of the cold.

“Don’t you dare!” Sandor warned her when he saw her making a snowball. “Don’t you fucking dare!’

“Language!” she scolded him as she threw the snowball at him. He dodged it, but Sansa immediately threw a second one at him and this time she did hit him. “Ha!”

But then a snowball thrown by Celine hit her too.

“That’s my girl!” Sandor praised his daughter, making her laugh. All of a sudden all three of them were fighting mercilessly with as many snowballs as they could make, filling the empty street with the sound of incessant laughing.

Yes, they had a good life indeed, and nothing could spoil it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give you a small sneak peek of "grown up" Celine and their life together! Happiness, FINALLY!
> 
> By the way, THE STORY HASN'T ENDED. There are still some chapters to go! Whatever that could mean muahahaha but not seriously, I wrote an entire outline for this story when I first came up with it when I was 17 and I'm finishing writing all of it, I'm not gonna stop now. 
> 
> Hope you liked it! Any comments would be much appreciated! :D


End file.
